


Permission and Blessing

by Madd4the24



Series: Life Goes On [2]
Category: Men in Black (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Crossover, Established Relationship, Humor, I just like to torture Clint a lot and it shows, M/M, Meet the Family, Obvious reasons for not getting married, Romance, mpreg but it's loki so it doesn't really count right?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-03
Updated: 2012-09-06
Packaged: 2017-11-13 12:09:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 40,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/503404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madd4the24/pseuds/Madd4the24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After that whole debacle with Loki trying to take over the world, and Phil almost dying, Clint really only wanted one thing, and that was to get married. All things considered, he hadn't thought it would be that hard. At least until Phil let him know that if they wanted to get married, Clint would have to get both his father's permission and blessing to do so.</p><p>The biggest problem was that Phil's father was weird. More than weird. And apparently less than impressed with him. But Clint could work with that. All he had to do was be on his best behavior for a couple of days. He'd managed harder things.</p><p>It was going to be a piece of cake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally intended for the Marvel Big Bang over on livejournal, but due to my beta dropping out at the last second due to a family emergency, the bb rules basically disqualified the fic from participation. So it's going up here, instead. 
> 
> To be honest, this was really supposed to be a crack fic, based on the tumblr consensus that Agent K from MIB is Phil Coulson's father. But it grew some feels along the way and it's decidedly less cracky now. Hopefully still funny.
> 
> This is also the second fic in a series. The first, however, is not necessarily that important to read first. As long as you go into his fic with the notion that Phil obviously did not actually die in the movie, you're peachy.

In all honestly, Clint probably could have worked on his timing a bit more. In between explosions and screaming civilians and Loki cackling manically probably wasn’t the best setting for a marriage proposal, but Clint wasn’t exactly a traditional kind of guy. And he didn’t think Phil would appreciate him getting down on one knee and sprouting out some overly saccharine bull about flowers and true love and world peace. No. Phil was an antique restoring, gun cleaning, obsessive compulsive kind of guy.

“Really?” Phil asked, head tipping to the side a little, almost impossible looking in the hold Loki had on his neck. “Really, Hawkeye?”

Bow notched, Clint grimaced. “I guess so.”

Several metallic creatures whizzed past them followed by a cursing Iron Man. The Hulk roared in the distance and Clint was stuck by the absurdity of what he was doing. Or maybe just the absurdity of it all.

“Right now, of all times?”

Clint felt a little defensive. “I’m a fly by the seat of my pants kind of guy.”

Loki’s arm tightened around Phil’s neck as he declared, “You pitiful mortals--”

Clint made a face at him, doing his best to ignore the way that when Phil paled, his skin itched, his stomach churned and the hint of an anxiety attack blossomed in his chest. “We were born to be ruled, we’re insignificant, you’re a god, blah-blah-blah-blah. Do you have something original this time, or are you just going to rehash that gibberish some more?”

The thing was, Loki and Phil, and any combination of the two, made Clint nervous. It brought to mind terrible memories of being out of control of his body, and the first real invasion the team had handled as Avengers … and maybe blotched a bit until they’d figured out how to properly work together. They were still kind of a work in progress all these months later.

But most importantly, it was hard not to look at the pair in front of him and find himself back to Natasha, having to sit in the air carrier as she explained to him how Phil was dead and Loki was responsible and Clint had been uselessly mind controlled during all of it. 

Of course Phil wasn’t dead, Fury was a fucker for lying about it, and Clint was still trying to grasp at the idea that he might need a little therapy for it after all. Phil said he tossed and turned in his sleep some nights, dreaming about being unable to save Phil, or losing his autonomy to Loki again.

“I think, Hawkeye,” Phil snapped, a testament that he was starting to panic a little, “that we can discuss this at a more proper time.”

“Let him go, Loki!” Captain America plowed onto the scene like a bad cliché and Clint was momentarily distracted. It was enough that by the time he looked back to Phil, the man had been angled up even higher in his choke hold, and Loki was seething mad.

Shrugging, Clint added, “Or else we’ll kick your ass.”

Smugly, Loki arched an eyebrow. “I fail to believe that. I have your pet, Hawkeye. I don’t think you’ll do anything.”

Loki was so much taller than Phil, and the agent was clearly struggling to stay up on his tiptoes and not fall completely into the man’s chokehold. 

“You’ve got my handler,” Clint corrected. Phil’s head was dangerously close to Loki’s, but he’d made tighter shots before. Not that there was any guarantee if he released an arrow that it would do any more to Loki than it had the last time. Which was a big, fat nothing.

“You like this one,” Loki taunted Clint, mouth pressing closet to Phil’s ear. “He’s special to you.”

Heroically, in a move that Clint thought would be sure to have teenage girls swooning by the time the six o’clock news replayed their battle, Captain America decreed, “You’re defeated, Loki. Let the man go and you’ll be shown mercy.”

“Mercy?” Loki scoffed. “I’ll break his neck before I give him to you.”

Loki would. Clint had spent enough time under his control to know exactly what the proclaimed god was capable of. And exactly what he would do when backed into a corner. He wanted to lurch forward and snatch Phil from danger. To do something, anything, and to not stand around helpless while Phil struggled to breathe.

“What do you want?” Captain America demanded.

Over Loki’s shoulder, Clint could see Natasha smashing an attacking machine that looked suspiciously like a doombot, to the ground. Loki was clearly working with Doom again. It was never good when they were working together. 

“Want?” Loki pressed a kiss to the side of Phil’s head salaciously. “I don’t want anything, dear Captain. I’m just here to have a little fun.”

Something exploded less than a block away and the impact wave nearly knocked Clint off his feet. He steadied himself, met Phil’s eyes, and said, “If you married me, you could be my househusband. Then you wouldn’t find yourself in these situations.”

“Hawkeye,” Captain America snapped, not humored by his attempt to lighten the mood.

“Never going to happen,” Phil said, sounding calmer than he looked. In fact he looked like he was going to pass out.

Clint decided, after they took care of Loki and got Phil wrangled down to medical to be checked out, he was going to have a serious talk with Fury about exactly how much exposure his handler was getting in Avenger battles. Fury was still kind of scared of him (he hoped) by the way he’d flown of the handle the last time they’d been together in Phil’s hospital room as he recovered. Hill’s field report called him unstable, but in his defense, anyone would have been unstable after loosing the love of their life.

Emotionally compromised, in the Vulcan vernacular. 

Never let it be said Clint Barton is not a giant geek, or that Phil Coulson does not indulge him by DVRing all of the classic Trek episodes that only seem to play on TV when they’re away on a mission.

“Come on,” Clint urged, trying to calculate the odds that Loki would deflect his arrow towards Phil if he let one fly. “You know you want to be my househusband.”

“You’re out gunned and outmanned,” Captain America said, taking one half foolish, half brave step towards Loki. He leveled his shield up. 

Loki shrugged. “I’m not actually hoping to accomplish anything.”

Chatter burst into Clint’s earpiece, and likely Captain America’s, about a high priority break-in. Someone was attempting to steal a large amount of uranium from a nearby facility, and something told Clint it probably wasn’t the Russians.

“Brother!”

And there was Thor, smashing up doombots and coming to make the situation even worse.

“So you’re a rouse,” Captain America decided.

Loki looked overly pleased with himself. “Yet again you’ve let yourselves foolishly be deceived by the same tactic. And to think, Earth is under your protection?”

“You’re the one who keeps using the same plan,” Clint snapped, feeling foolish. Phil swayed on his feet as much as he could. “Now give us back Coulson or like I said, we’re going to kick your ass.”

Loki’s spare arm wrapped around Phil in a way that made Clint’s head throb with unwanted thoughts. He could see the way Phil’s chest was beginning to heave with effort, and no doubt the man was reliving the last time he’d been so close to Loki.

“But I quite like Agent Coulson.” Loki hefted him up off his feet gleefully, and at least Phil could breathe then, if only with a little embarrassment. “Maybe I want to keep him. He’s fun, unlike you, Hawkeye. Yes, I think I will keep him.”

Thor stormed past them all, hammer held tightly. “Why do you play these foolish games?”

A wicked smile blossomed on Loki’s face. “Because you’re such a wonderful playmate, Thor.” 

“That’s it!” Clint snapped. He wasn’t going to lose Phil to Loki again, not when he actually could help it this time. “Listen, you overgrown toddler. No one cares about the tantrum you’re throwing right now. No one cares about you, period. You’re just a pain in our asses we deal with while we wait for the real bad guys to show up. So you let our agent go, and you get it out of your damned head that he’s yours to touch. You don’t touch Agent Coulson. You don’t even breathe in the same city as him.”

“Or else?” Loki asked flatly, bored.

Clint’s head cocked. “Hulk smash.”

Phil choked and gasped for air as he was released. Loki crossed his arms and vowed, “This isn’t the last you’ve seen of me, Avengers.”

Clint knelt down next to Phil immediately, the moment after Loki had vanished into a green shimmer. He locked his arm around the man’s shoulders as Phil coughed hard.

“Did Hawkeye just talk Loki into giving up?” Iron Man asked. Clint hadn’t even seen him show up. “Because I vote we use that tactic from now on. Think of all the collateral damage we can avoid. The lawsuits. Especially think of the lawsuits.”

Thor sighed. “My brother’s heart was not in this fight. He did not mean to truly cause us any harm.”

“Are you okay?” Clint mumbled quietly to Phil. The rest of the doombots had been taken care of and SHIELD operatives were moments away from showing up on the scene. The area would be swarmed shortly, and they wouldn’t have any peace to themselves until they went home, and who knew when that would be.

“Fine,” Phil rasped hoarsely. 

“What happened?” Clint demanded. He was still trying to work out how everything had gone to hell in a hand basket--not even a cute hand basket. He’d been up high one moment, perched in a perfect position to snipe the flying robots, and the next he’d known Loki had vanished from sight. Clint had kind of thought maybe Loki had gotten bored with them. It happened once in a while, and it was always difficult to tell when he was regrouping, and when he’d just decided to go home and watch TV instead. 

Then, just as a new wave of doombots had shown up, Clint had spotted Loki, and Phil, and the lack of distance between them. Clint just kind of thought it was miracle he hadn’t flipped his shit on the spot.

The first of the SHIELD cars rolled up and Hill’s boots were on the pavement shortly after that.

Captain America offered a hand down to Phil and asked, “Doing okay there, Agent Coulson?” There was honest concern on his face as he waited for an answer.

Phil got shakily to his feet with the help of Captain America. “In top shape, Captain. Now, I suggest you rally your team. I’ll go speak to Agent Hill and we’ll prepare to depart for a debriefing.” Phil’s hands shook as he straightened his tie and Clint hated the professionalism they had to maintain in the company of others.

The next six hours were an ordeal that Clint would have traded a kidney to get out of. The debriefing took an excruciating long time to get through, mainly because they’d had to wait for the report from the facility that Doom had hit while they’d been distracted by Loki. After, they’d needed to coordinate with the Fantastic Four, who were apparently already on Doom’s ass with the attack, and like usual, withholding information from the rest of them. 

The conference call ended, naturally, when Captain America accused the Fantastic Four of being uncooperative, and the Fantastic Four accused the Avengers of being self-serving. Added to the way a horrible case of testosterone competition seemed to break out between Thor and The Thing, and how green Banner was starting to look, Clint thought they could chalk it up as many hours of wasted time. Not to mention, it really wasn’t necessary for Tony to flirt with everything that had legs. Sure, Johnny Storm was all kinds of handsome, but the way Tony’s words made Steve tense up in poorly concealed jealousy, just made Clint wonder how they actually managed to save the day more often than not. 

Convincing Phil to get to medical afterwards was a pain the ass, too. By that point Clint was tired and annoyed and ready to just curl up under Phil’s desk in his office and not come out until the next planet wide invasion. 

But Clint was a good boyfriend. He stood at the doctor’s elbow as the man carefully examined Phil. Anxiously, he asked, “He’s okay, right?”

Phil batted away a hand. “I’m fine. And I’d much rather talk about the way you abandoned your position, Barton. You endangered Black Widow. You were her backup. We have a chain of command for a reason.”

Clint flicked him on the forehead gently. “One: Natasha is even more badass than me. I know, it’s hard to fully grasp that concept, but she is. She doesn’t need me to take care of her or hold her hand. I made sure she was fine.” Which was sort of true. She hadn’t really looked like she was in trouble, and she was badass. “And two: did you really think I wasn’t going to give that fight my middle finger when I saw you were in danger?” Clint’s eyes flicked to the doctor who was trying to best to look as invisible as possible.

“I’m not your concern in those types of situations,” Phil snapped back. He was always irritable when he was hurt.

“You are.” Clint, still dressed in his uniform, still dirty from the fight, found Phil’s lax hand. “And if you think you aren’t always going to be my number one priority in a fight, maybe we should reevaluate going out at the same time. That is, of course, if you think you trust anyone else with me.” He already knew the answer to that. 

“Clint,” Phil breathed out, annoyed.

He countered, “Phil.” Then he asked, “What happened? You’re never supposed to be that close to the danger.”

Later, Phil would probably write a ten page report to Fury about exactly what had happened, and how things had gone south so quickly, and the best resolution of conflict they could hope to achieve for future consideration. It would be long winded and terribly thorough, and everything that reports to a superior on a serious matter were supposed to be. Clint wouldn’t read more than a paragraph.

“I lost sight of Banner,” Phil confessed, face softening. He had a to pause for a moment while the doctor checked his neck once more. “He’d just Hulked-out, and I lost sight of him. Fury was asking for a preliminary report and I had to move out of cover to find him once more. He was up ten stories at that point, doing more damage to JP Morgan than to Doom’s robots.”

Clint snorted. “JP Morgan deserved it.” Then he bent, one hand in Phil’s hair, the other cupping the side of his face. “You don’t ever leave cover without telling me first, okay? Your job is to keep an eye on all of us, and my job is to make sure you stay safe while doing that.”

“Banner is still a priority threat.” Phil seemed to relax against him for the fist time. “Fury won’t admit it, not even to me, but SHIELD is just looking for an excuse to put him down. The board is not convinced he’s an asset, and they can overrule Fury. If Banner, or the Hulk mess up, it won’t mean being shipped out to South America, and I don’t think I need to tell you that I’m never losing anyone on my team again.”

“It wasn’t your fault what happened to me.”

Phil pursed his lips. “I should have been there.”

“You’re always doing a million things,” Clint argued. “Hill likes to think she’s the shit, but Fury wouldn’t get anything done without you. You have to be in like fifteen places at once. So don’t give me that crap about how you should have been down there in the lab when Loki popped by to say hi. You were doing your job, and I was right where I was supposed to be.”

Phil shook his head, looking determined. The Agent’s neck was bright red against his fair complexion, and something told Clint the skin might bruise. “We were supposed to have gone home hours earlier. You wouldn’t have been there if I’d let us leave on time. You wouldn’t have been there for Loki to take.”

Clint squinted at him. “We already talked about this, remember? After I found out Fury was hiding you in a posh hospital in upstate? No one gets the blame for this but Loki. That asshole gets all the blame.”

“What happened today--”

“Happened because of me,” Clint finished for him. “When I was under Loki’s control he could read my mind like a book. He knew everything that mattered to me. That’s why he tried to kill you, you know. He knew exactly how much I loved you. That’s why he tried to kill you then, and why he grabbed you today. He’ll gab Pepper the next time he wants to piss Tony off, or Jane when he really wants to get a rise out of Thor. Maybe he’ll even dig Bucky up to piss off the Cap. I guess what I’m trying to say is that shit like this is going to happen. We’re superheroes, but we’re still human. We have lives and we have families and that’s just tough luck, because I’m not giving you up, and I’m not letting you give me up.”

Phil was quiet for a moment, contemplative. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Clint asked, not sure he’d heard right. Phil rarely gave in so easily, especially on the big stuff. This felt like something big. 

“Sirs?” A voice cleared and Clint nearly jumped. He’d forgotten about the doctor. “I need to finish the exam and then I can discharge him.”

Clint took a step back. “Okay. Get on it, then.” 

It was another hour before Phil was released into Clint’s care, and the paperwork was signed, and they were ready to go. But it was close to an additional hour before they actually left the base. Apparently Phil wasn’t the only one who wanted to lecture Clint about leaving his post and disregarding orders and egging the badguy on. Captain America advised him to be more professional, Fury said he was docking him pay, and Hill glared at him so fiercely that her silence felt like a lecture. Clint gave her the finger when her back turned.

Clint got Phil home and settled into bed just as the sun was going down in the distance. Clint fluffed his pillow, handed him the remote, and put a glass of water on the bedside table.

“I’m not really that injured,” Phil protested, secretly enjoying the treatment. 

“Just …” Clint broke off as he watched Phil shift around gingerly on the bed. “Just indulge me, okay?” He had a tendency to treat Phil like he was made of glass. Maybe it was because their lives were so dangerous and he was deathly afraid to loose Phil to the lifestyle. It probably had a lot to do with the pink scar that ran along Phil’s chest, terrifyingly close to his heart, and served as a reminder of the six weeks Clint had thought he was dead, and the six months of physical therapy after just to get Phil back on his feet. 

“Just this once,” Phil said gently, and Clint leaned in for a chaste kiss.

“But you still didn’t answer my question,” Clint mumbled against his lips. 

“Question?” Phil’s eyebrows were high. He bashfully admitted, “The whole fight, and most of the aftermath, is a little blurry to me.” Oxygen deprivation, and all that, Clint supposed. 

“Come on,” Clint deadpanned. “You tried to rip me one on the battlefield for even suggesting it.”

“Oh.” Phil’s face lit up a little. Then he laughed. “I thought you were kidding. Or it was a tactic to throw Loki off balance.”

Clint gave him a stern look. “I meant exactly what I said.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I want us to get married.”

Phil turned serious in a matter of seconds, reminding, “We live together, are in a committed, monogamous relationship, and very much love each other. We eat breakfast in the morning together, fight side by side, and act as medical proxy to each other should something occur. What could marriage possibly give us that we don’t already give each other? Even SHIELD files our taxes for us jointly, so there goes that argument.”

“I want to get married,” Clint ground out.

Phil shook his head lightly. “We don’t need a piece of paper, or a pair of matching rings to defend the fact that we are partners.”

Clint supposed, there wasn’t even the fact that he could introduce Phil to anyone as his husband if they did get married. They shared all the same friends, and they didn’t really go out in public together all that much unless it was for a job. 

“Clint?”

Clint settled next to him on the bed. “But what if it matters to me? I don’t care if it matters to anyone else, or if anyone else knows. We can go to Vegas right now and get hitched and we don’t have to tell anyone.”

Phil interrupted, “Nevada has yet to legalize same sex marriage.”

Clint shushed him. “I want to be able to wake up in the morning and look over at you, with your adorable bedhead, and know that I was unimaginably lucky enough to trick you into loving me. And marrying me. I want to know that you are my legally recognized partner, and that it’s a right that a lot of good people have dedicated their lives to fighting for. I want to look at the ring on your finger and know that I put that there, and it means something to me, and it’s a representation of my dedication to you and my love for you, and my vow that I will never walk away or give in, or give up. Marriage isn’t about what it means to other people, Phil. It’s about what it means to the two people who want it.”

“And you want to marry me?”

“For like five years now?” Clint hedged, feeling a little embarrassed by the fact. “I guess I was just waiting for the right time to ask.”

Phil asked seriously, “You decided that right time was in the middle of a battle with Loki, while he was attempting to illicit an emotional response from you which would compromise either myself, or you, or the team?”

Clint laid a quick kiss to the corner of Phil’s mouth. “You know it turns me on when you talk Trek. You’re about to illicit an emotional response from me right now.”

Phil pinched him hard on the thigh. “I’m serious. What about me being in life ending danger screamed a good time to propose marriage?”

With no small heave, Clint tripped his way over to the closet in their room. He slid the white door open silently and thumbed past Phil’s perfectly pressed suits to the back of the closet. He knelt down and reached for a pair of old penny loafers, shoes that Clint wore once in a blue moon and really adored.

It only took a moment of feeling around in the toe of the left shoe before he found what he was looking for. And when he turned back to Phil, he had a tiny box in his hand. 

“Is that …” Phil trailed off, not wanting to make any assumptions. 

Clint tossed it across the room and Phil caught it easily. 

“I had Natasha help me. We went ahead, to the jeweler, and she helped me pick out the one that she thought you’d most like. Women are really good at picking out jewelry. And then she kept you distracted when I went and picked it up.”

Phil cracked the box open and looked down at the meticulously crafted, beautifully engraved silver ring.

“When I thought you were …” Clint broke off and gathered himself. “When Natasha said you were gone, I wanted to throw it out. She wouldn’t let me. She didn’t even know you were okay in that hospital, and she wouldn’t let me. And then, when I was with you in that hospital for all those weeks, and after when you started your physical therapy and barely got cleared to come home, she kept it safe for me. I cleaned out the apartment because I was afraid that SHIELD would throw everything of yours away to cover up your existence, and she kept the ring safe until I could get everything put back in its place.”

Shoulders falling a little, Phil asked, “You really want to marry me?”

“I was kind of hoping you’d say yes when I asked.”

Phil pulled the ring free of the box. “You asked in a really crappy way.”

“So ….” Clint slinked his way back to Phil’s side and sat next to him. “Despite that really crappy proposal …”

Phil weighed the ring in his palm for a moment more, then he slotted it back in the box and closed the lid. “Clint.”

“That’s a no then.” Clint tried to snatch the box back, but Phil held it away. “What?” he demanded. Was Phil saying yes or no? What the hell was going on? When he’d asked Natasha to help him get the ring, and planned it all out, he’d imagined it would go much more smoothly. Then again, nothing ever really went smoothly for Clint.

“I want to say yes,” Phil said. “And I will, as soon as you tell me that you’ve already talked to my father about it.”

Clint’s eyes popped a bit. “Excuse me?”

A little huffy, Phil explained, “You know how close I am with him. I’d never marry anyone he didn’t approve of.”

“You’re living in sin with me already,” Clint nearly shouted. “I’m pretty sure your dad knows how serious we are. We’ve been together for six years.”

Phil dad was … still largely a mystery to Clint. After six years Clint had met him once, almost too briefly to be considered a meeting, and talked to him twice in the phone. Clint had spoken to him first on the day that he’d become Phil’s medical proxy, when the man who’d previously been it had been notified. And again on the day that SHIELD officially declared Phil KIA and Clint had to be the one to make all the important phone calls.

As far as Clint knew, Phil’s dad was pretty cold. He was direct, humorless, and the very definition of work centric. It was where Phil got it from, clearly. Phil said his dad was more dedicated to his job than Fury was.

Phil’s dad was also in some secret government branch. From one secret branch to the other, Clint kind of thought he deserved to know exactly what the man did. But Phil was suspiciously tight lipped about his dad’s occupation, and completely unmovable on providing any information. Clint had joked, “We stop alien invasions a couple times a month. What’s a higher clearance than that?”

Phil had said, “Not higher,” and left it at that. 

“Just to reiterate,” Clint said, “you want to say yes. That’s your default answer.”

Phil nodded.

“But,” Clint continued, “you want me to ask your dad his permission to marry you.”

Phil’s hands framed Clint’s face and he kissed the man’s forehead in a display of both affection and being overly medicated. “I’m not asking you to get permission. We’re both adults, Clint. I’m asking you to get his blessing. He’s all I have left. My mother and sister … he’s all I have. Ask him, Clint. Get his blessing.”

Clint leaned in for a better kiss. “Alright. Get the blessing. Mission accepted, failure not an option.”

“It’s not that difficult of a chore,” Phil said, finally placing the box back in Clint’s palm. “I don’t know why you act like he’s so scary.”

“He’s your dad,” Clint said bluntly. “And trust me, the vibe I get from him? It’s kind of like he could stop a few alien invasions himself.”

Phil grinned wide.

Clint steeled himself. All he had to do was get the man’s blessing. It didn’t seem that hard, right? People got blessings to marry each other all the time. Clint was at a good age for marriage, he had a secure job, and he was a superhero. Not a bad combination at all. Nope. He’d be fine.

And yet … something told him that there was more to Phil’s father than the man let on.

“Great,” Phil said, looking happier than he had in a while. “I’ll give him a call and see if he can get out here for a couple of days.”

Clint took a deep breath. “Great,” he echoed. 

The next day Clint gave her Phil’s ring for safe keeping, and in return Natasha gave him what was almost a startled look when he explained his situation. “He said what?”

Clint sat across from her in the heart of the SHIELD cafeteria and picked at his lunch. He dragged a French fry through a dollop of ketchup and nibbled at it uninterestedly. “He wants me to basically ask his father for his hand in marriage.” She arched an eyebrow. “Right? Exactly.”

“That’s certainly … unexpected.” She leaned across the table and turned his plate of fries closer to her. Clint helped her even further by passing it almost completely to her. 

“Horrific,” Clint clarified. “So now apparently the man is coming up from DC or wherever he’s been on assignment, and he’s going to spend a couple days with us. In such time, I’m going to be expected to win him over, make him love me, and absolutely not doing any of the things that I apparently normally do. Phil added that last part in. I get the feeling he doesn’t really trust me not to completely piss his father off.”

Natasha snacked on his fries. “I’ve never heard you or Phil mention his father before.”

Holding up one finger, Clint explained, “I’ve seen him once. Maybe three or four years back? It was for about fifteen minutes and the man did nothing but look at me like he wanted to make me disappear. I don’t think he likes me very much.”

“But you said Phil and his father are close?”

Clint deadpanned, “They talk just about every day. They message back and forth like school girls. Phil talks to him before he makes any serious decisions. It’s … kind of weird, actually. But I guess that’s just because they’re as close as they are. If I had a father who wanted to be involved in my life, you can bet your ass that I’d be talking to him as often as I could.”

“Still,” Natasha mused, chewing on the end of another fry, “Phil doesn’t really strike me as the attached type. He’s loyal to a fault, that’s true, but he’s always so self-sufficient and self assured.”

Clint ran a hand over his face. “He talked to his father for about an hour straight after I told Phil I thought we should move in together. Phil probably thinks the sun shines out of his dad’s ass.”

“Most sons do,” Natasha noted. “They just get better at hiding it the older they are. So. What’re you going to do?”

“Keep my mouth shut.” That was his main plan of action. The fewer words he said to Phil’s father, the better. With any luck, he could get through the next couple of days being as silent as possible, and let his actions speak for him. He really did think that storming a hospital with his best friend to rescue the love of his life from their lying leader was worth something. Brownie points, please.

“What’s his father do?” Natasha asked curiously. “Does he work for the government too?”

“Technically we don’t work for the government,” Clint pointed out. “And here’s the thing, I’m not sure Phil’s dad does either. Phil’s pretty evasive when it comes to his dad. As far as I know, his dad does some pretty classified stuff and has a lot of weight to throw around when it comes to getting stuff done. Clout.”

Natasha paused. “What kind? How much?”

“The Thor incident in New Mexico?” Clint reminded. “I was there when Phil called his dad. The man wanted to send someone down to take care of the problem for Phil. Whoever his dad is, he’s packing something, that’s for sure, and it’s enough for him to go over Fury’s head.”

With a frown, Natasha popped another fry into her mouth, chewed, and posed, “Then I don’t see why you’re so scared for someone you’ve never spent any real time with. If he’s in that deep, there’s a good chance he ran your name the second Phil became your handler.”

“Probably,” Clint chuckled. “He probably knows more about me than I know about myself.”

“You try running him through our database?”

“If I knew his name?” Clint made a frustrated sound. “I don’t even know the guy’s name. He’s just Agent something. Phil dodges the question every time I ask.”

Natasha gave a graceful snort. “By dodge, you mean--”

“He does this thing with his tongue that--”

“Okay!” Her hand reached across the table lightening fast to cover Clint’s mouth. “That’s what I thought.” She released her hand slowly, making sure he wasn’t going to speak. “So here’s what you do, Barton. You wait for him to come to visit you. Be on your best behavior, make Phil proud with your manners, and then lift his wallet.”

“Excuse me?” Clint choked out.

Natasha looked smug. “Even secret agents carry around a wallet. I guarantee it.”

“And get caught?” Clint bemoaned. “He’d probably demand my right hand as payment for the offence. Do you know how difficult it would be to fire an arrow without a hand?”

“Stark could probably rig something up for you.”

Clint folded his arms on the table and smothered his face into them. His voice was muffled as he said, “What grown man asks his partner to get permission for them to marry from his father? Who does that?”

“Phil Coulson.” Natasha was quickly finishing off his fries. 

After a minute more Clint cleared his throat and sat up. “Tasha,” he posed, voice serious.  
“There’s something I want to talk to you about. It’s important.”

She blotted her fingers on a napkin and nodded. “Whatever you need.”

He felt nervous sitting around so many other Agents. None of them were paying him any attention except for Natasha, but if he could have managed a more private place in that instance he would have taken it without hesitation. Instead he settled for keeping his voice low as he said, “You know you were the only one who got me through those six weeks.” There was no question as to which weeks he was referring to. 

“Clint,” Natasha said softly.

“Everyone else gave up on me after a couple of weeks. They just let me drink myself into a useless lump. But you didn’t. You pried the bottle out of my hand when you needed to, and you gave me my space when I had to have it. You were there for me, Tasha, in every way I needed, and you got me through a time when I wasn’t sure I wanted to keep going on without Phil.” A smile broke onto his face as he added, “And then you did the impossible by finding Phil, and by helping me break into a hospital. You’re the absolute best friend anyone could ever have. I don’t think I appreciate you enough sometimes.”

Now she looked anxious to be away from the crowd of people surrounding them. But still she laid on hand over his and said, “I’ve only returned to you tenfold what you showed to me before that. We owe each other no debts. Friends do not.”

“If,” Clint said with a wage of his hand, “I miraculously win Phil’s father over, and survive the bachelor party, and Loki doesn’t ruin my wedding deliberately just to be a bitch, then I want you up there next to me. I want you as my best man--best woman, whatever. I want you to stand next to me.”

“I would be honored,” she said solemnly.

Clint rushed to say, “We probably aren’t going to do anything too traditional, and we’ll have a Justice of the Peace, but I don’t think I could get married to anyone without you there, Tasha. You’ve always had my back, even when I was the enemy, and even when I was trying to kill myself. You were there, and that’s why I want you to stand up next to me.”

Her lips grazed his cheek in a delicate kiss. “Consider it done.”

Relief lifted off his shoulders. There probably hadn’t ever been any doubt that she’d accept. They were sort of a package deal, one that Phil had accepted so easily it was scary. She slept on their couch a couple nights out of the week, and carpooled together when possible, and occupied more of Clint’s time than anyone but Phil probably had a right to. But Phil never complained, always seemed to understand, and even Phil probably would have felt odd if Natasha hadn’t been his best woman.

Natasha gave him a serious look and wondered, “Who is Phil going to have as his best man? Fury?”

Clint gave a sharp laugh and said, “Knowing Phil, it’ll be his father.”

“You’ll be fine,” Natasha assured. She gave him a confident nod. “You’re a likable guy, Clint, when you’re not being a dick.”

“Thanks for that vote of confidence, Tasha.” Clint climbed to his feet. “I’ve got to go. Phil wants me down in R&D. Stark came up with some kind of flame retardant mesh that he wants to test out on me today.”

She gave him a wince. “Still sore over getting set on fire?”

“No one likes getting set on fire,” Clint glared. 

He started off towards the exit and Natasha called over her shoulder, “Tell Phil I said hi. And I’m really looking forward to meeting his father!”

“Evil,” Clint hissed at her. 

Clint tried to put the idea of meeting Phil’s father to the back of his mind for the rest of the day. Instead, he found himself preoccupied with letting Tony Stark and Bruce Banner set him on fire.

“Watch my delicate skin,” Clint complained at Tony as the man wielded an impressively sized flamethrower. Next to Tony, Bruce held a clipboard and looked just a smite adorable in his oversized protective goggles. “Be the voice of reason, will you Bruce?”

Phil stood across the room, watching them carefully, looking just a little too enthusiastic about seeing Clint covered in the prototype of his new uniform material, and slathered with flame retardant gel. 

“Uh, will do,” Bruce said, checking something on his clipboard.

Clint twisted around to glare at Phil. “Are we sure we trust Stark enough to set me on fire?”

Tony let a spray of fire go experimentally. “It’s totally safe, Barton. Steve made me try this stuff out on him first.”

That didn’t make Clint feel any better. “That just proves that Steve cares, not you, Tony.”

“It’s safe,” Phil said, moving to stand closer, amusement gone from his face. “And it’s designed to keep you that way, so pay attention, Barton.”

Clint could have nagged them all about it for another fifteen minutes. He sort of wanted to. But Phil had said it was safe, and Phil had never lied to him. If Phil said he needed to be there, covered in something that smelled and looked an awful lot like lube, then it was where Clint planned to stay.

“I got set on fire once,” Clint snapped, pulling his protective mask down over his face.

Getting set on fire by Tony Stark was actually a lot more enjoyable than he was really willing to admit. That was probably why the next day Phil laid down the law and said, “My father is going to be in town at the end of the week. If we start cleaning now, it might be acceptable by the time he gets here.”

Clint took a look around. He could see a couple of Phil’s ever faithful coffee mugs littered around the apartment, and Clint had left a couple of magazines on the coffee table, but nothing looked that bad. The bed was made, most of the dishes were done, and the place smelled good. Clint was a minimalist for the most part, and Phil was pretty much a clean freak. Together, they kept the cleanest place next to Captain America who was obsessive compulsive on levels that worried Clint.

The same time next year, Clint was banking on the entire point of keeping a clean house being moot. Stark was nearly done with his fabled Avengers tower, or was maybe already there and Fury was still talking over the pros and cons of consolidating them all in one location. No matter what, it wouldn’t be long before Fury and Stark tried to wrangle them all up into one building. Stark had promised them an entire floor to themselves, something that Clint didn’t think they needed, but still, living in such an enclosed area with both Thor and the Hulk wasn’t something Clint was looking forward to. 

Phil blinked slowly at him. “This isn’t clean.”

Clint peered down at the carpet. He could still see the last of the vacuum streaks from when Phil had vacuumed earlier that morning before work. The linoleum in the kitchen still had a shine, too.

Apparently, clean to Phil, or at least what his father would consider clean, could be interpreted to mean Clint down on his knees, and not in the way he preferred. Instead, while Phil worked a terrycloth at the boarders of all of the doorframes in the apartment, Clint climbed around on his hand and knees with an old toothbrush, a bucket of water, and instructions to make sure every crevice was perfectly bleached. 

He’d just finished the bathroom, and god Clint had a new respect for bleach all of the sudden, when he sat back on his hind legs and poked his head out of the room, calling, “Phil? Phil!” 

Phil came around his way quickly enough. “Done finally?”

A little dizzy from the bleach fumes, Clint climbed to his feet and said, “I just thought of something.”

“Hm?”

It was a horrifying thought. “Phil, where is your dad going to sleep?” There weren’t any decent hotels for miles, and they only had a one bedroom apartment.

Phil’s eyes narrowed. “You expect me to put my father on our sofa?”

“No?”

That was how Clint learned he’d be the one sleeping on their comfortable, but too short sofa while Phil shared the bedroom with his father for forty-eight hours. 

The weekend was getting worse and worse.

On Friday, some kid, barely a teen at that, decided he had a personal vendetta against the Yankees. Apparently, he was a Red Sox fan. He also had the very nerve wracking ability to make the ground shake and split open. Clint had never been more thankful to take the high ground and let Thor wrestle the kid to the ground.

“Mutant,” Phil told him quietly as Clint tracked Fury across what used to be Yankee stadium. “The first we’ve had in this part of the city in a while.” Phil amended, “The first we’ve had become violent in a while. This could be out of Fury’s jurisdiction.”

“Is he on the phone with the board?”

Phil shook his head slowly. “Xavier.”

“Xavier?”

Phil gave him the smallest of nudges in the shoulder. “It’s a small world out there, Hawkeye. But it gets bigger everyday.”

The destruction of Yankee stadium was pretty high up on the distraction list. It also meant Phil was tied up for hours with Fury and Hill and eventually Xavier, who was all kind of unsettling and calming at the same time. Clint got one look at him and felt unnerved, but also kind of like the time he had tried that Yoga thing and felt invincible for an hour afterward. But mostly unnerved. Though not as much as the man who accompanied him and looked wildly dangerous and a bit like a ravenous animal. 

Mutants scared the shit out of Clint personally. Aliens were one thing. Thor was another. And the Hulk and the Fantastic Four and all of the other normal people who’d just been exposed to a bad dose of radiation, that was pretty standard around New York. But mutants? They were a whole different matter completely, and one that Clint knew would only continue to grow.

Clint went home without Phil. He went home to his bleached apartment and climbed into bed with a resolved sigh. They’d meet Phil’s father the following morning, and had plans to take him out for a late breakfast at their favorite hidden away bistro. The whole day had his skin crawling with anxiety. 

See, Clint had liked the Yankees. He wasn’t a New York native, but he kind of liked the tradition that they represented. The loyalty. Clint liked tradition and loyalty. So a mutant destroying Yankee stadium? Clint didn’t appreciate that. But if a rogue mutant wanted to maybe take out the Mets stadium, now Clint could get behind that. Especially if proposed mutant wanted to do it around ten AM the next day.

It wasn’t that they had a set curfew for each other or anything like that, but it was more like a mutual understanding. Home before midnight barring any end of the world disasters. Mutants weren’t disasters, just inconveniences.

By the time Phil came home it was after two.

“Everything get sorted out?” Clint asked, voice heavy in the darkness of their bedroom. 

He could hear Phil shuffling around, taking off his clothes, setting his gun on the dresser. Then Clint was shifting up towards the headboard to make room for Phil.

“You didn’t have to wait up for me,” Phil said, and he even sounded tired. 

Clint pulled him close, and wrapped his arms around Phil’s shaking shoulders. “You know I can’t sleep without you.”

Through the blinds on their window Clint could see the moonlight peeking in, illuminating the room just enough for Clint to be able to make out that Phil was almost completely asleep already.

“Big day tomorrow,” Clint remarked, fingers threading through Phil’s hair.

“It is,” Phil sighed out.

“I’ll try my best not to completely humiliate you to your father.”

Phil’s face turned into Clint’s neck. “I promise not to let him kill you.”

Clint laughed nervously. “You’re kidding, right? Phil? He’s not going to actually try and kill me, right?”

“Hm.”

Clint looked up at the ceiling, feeling Phil breathe evenly and deeply against him. “I love you.”

Phil shifted closer and Clint closed his eyes.

In the morning, the alarm clock blaring at six AM, Clint groaned loudly and begged, “Let me hit the snooze.”

For once, Phil looked no more willing to roll out of bed. But with a sigh, Phil reached over and pinched Clint’s ass hard, and said, “Get up. And the only button you’re hitting is to turn it off and get up.”

Mouth rancid from sleep, Clint settled for pressing a closed mouth kiss to the corner of Phil’s lips. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, buddy.”

They showered (separately, much to Clint’s disappointment) and dressed, and then were out the door by seven-thirty, barring only one delay when Clint had to wrangle the bleach from Phil, the agent protesting, “I know you had a little personal time in the shower, Barton, don’t pretend you didn’t. The floor was sticky when I got in after you. My father will know. Give me back the bleach.”, but that was it.

Clint had lived with Phil for years now, and he knew for a fact that the only thing the older man loved more than his job and his caffeine, was his car. They had what could probably be described as a company car. A nice, sleek, black car that was as close to super villain proof as anyone could manage. But Phil also had a personal car, a nice subtle blue, Chevy, and pretty much what Clint figured Phil counted as his baby. He waxed the car every chance he had, paid a ridiculous amount of money a month for garaging, and only took it out on special occasions. 

Of course he was breaking it out for his father. 

“What’re you doing?” Phil asked, downing the last of his coffee before getting in the car.

Clint slid into the backseat and peeked through the window at Phil still standing outside. “What?” His eyebrows rose high. 

“What’re you doing back there?” Phil looked down at his watch. 

Clint scoffed. “You honestly expect me to believe that I’m not going to be riding back here?”

Phil glared a little. “Get in the front seat.”

Clint vaulted over the leather interior to land in the passenger seat. Clint heard Phil mumble something about being committed to a child.

“You have to tell me something about your dad,” Clint said when they were finally on their way. They were supposed to rendezvous with the man at a specified location closer to New Jersey than New York. Like most things, Phil had been tight lipped about their destination, and yes, he’d actually used the word rendezvous. 

“Clint, I’ve--”

Clint waved a hand at him. “Spare me that secretive bullshit already, okay? I want to marry you. If I wasn’t clear about that before, you know, the fifty times I said it, let me reiterate. I want to marry you, and if getting your dad’s blessing is the only thing that’s going to make you say yes to me, then I’m going to do my damnedest to get that blessing. And I kind of think you want to marry me, so how about you be on my team for once and help me out.”

Quietly, both hands on the wheel and looking straight ahead, Phil said, “I am on your side. I’ve always been on your side, and I’m sorry if you ever felt like I wasn’t.”

Clint let his hand rest on Phil’s knee. “Then let me in, okay? I just don’t get why you never want to talk about him to me, but you’ll talk about anything to him on the phone. Hell, you flew to Moscow for a week last year without me for something that had to do with him. Do you have any idea how much self control it took on my part not to throw a giant bitchfit?”

“My father is a secretive man,” Phil said with a shrug. “It comes with the territory.”

Clint huffed.

“But,” Phil eased out, and Clint leaned towards him. “I suppose it has a lot to do with him being the only family I have left. I haven’t seen my sister in years, and I suspect I won’t see her again.” He corrected quickly, “Half sister, Clint, but she’s still near and dear to my heart.”

“And your mother?” Clint asked. He realized he’d been so focused on Phil’s father, he hardly ever stopped to consider the man’s mother.

Phil did turn to look at him then, face impossible to read. “She left my father when I was young. She couldn’t handle the lifestyle. Not everyone can. And she didn’t visit. My father raised me, Clint. And after a short while, like I said, he was all I had. His job always came first, even before me, and I resented him for it for a while. It wasn’t until I joined SHIELD that I understood how a job could come before anything else. Clint, I want you to understand, when my father agreed to the conditions of his job, it was under the stipulation that he leave his entire life behind. But he didn’t completely. He didn’t leave me behind. I’m the only thing.”

“Oh,” Clint said, not sure how to respond. He asked, a little confused, “So you don’t tell me anything about him because you want to keep him to yourself? I guess? Sort of?”

“That,” Phil smiled, “and the matter of national security.”

Clint leaned an elbow on the window and said with a grin, feeling a little better about the day, “I’m not going to steal him away from you, Phil. I love you, and trust me, trying to get on his good side won’t change anything.”

Phil was a ten and two driver, almost too strict about obeying the rules of the road. But in that moment Phil’s right hand shifted down from the wheel to catch Clint’s fingers. “Good to know.”

Clint gave him a wink. “So how about we start with your dad’s name, and you don’t tell me that you have to kill me if you tell me any more.”

There was clear hesitancy on Phil’s face even to give him that much.

“Phil.”

“His name is a bit …”

Clint groaned. 

They came to rest at the red light and Phil, who was never a fan of PDAs, leaned over and kissed Clint’s temple, catching him off guard. “People call him K, when they call him anything at all.”

“K,” Clint eased out. Then he teased, “It must have really killed you to tell me that much. Would you freak out if I asked what he did for a living?”

“Classified,” Phil dismissed. 

“We stop alien gods with daddy issues from taking over the world at least twice a month. What’s more classified than that?” With a pout, Clint crossed is arms and sunk down into his seat. “I better get a really good blowjob out of this, because I’m not going to be half as weird or scary when our kid wants to get married.”

Phil’s head cocked a little. “Our kid?”

Clint felt his stomach sink a little. They’d never talked about kids. They had high risk jobs that were constantly demanding all their time, and putting them into situations that made coming home at the end of the day something of a question at times. When were kids even going to fit into the equation … if Phil even wanted kids. God, what if Phil didn’t want kids? Did Clint even want kids? They really should have talked about it beforehand. Foot in mouth. 

“What I meant was that … you know … someday … if you wanted … because I just thought … and there was the option … and … Phil … why’re you looking at me like that?”

“Kids are a big thing,” Phil said, voice even.

“Maybe not plural,” Clint hastened to say. “One? Someday? Look, it was stupid for me to bring it up when we’re just working on getting married.”

“You want a child?”

Clint shrugged. 

Phil nodded slowly. “We should talk about this at a later date.”

Clint felt like an idiot. Phil has said, despite how he felt about his father and loved and respected him, that his father hadn’t really been there for him as a child. His father had put his job first. That was the last thing Clint wanted to do. What was the point of having a child if you weren’t going to put the kid first? And Clint loved his job. There was something to be said about the adrenaline rush of going into battle and being a big damn hero. Clint didn’t know he could give that up, not even for a tiny little body with a big personality and probably Phil’s eyes. With Clint’s luck, any kid of theirs would have Phil’s eyes regardless of his parentage.

Surprisingly, Phil said, “Natasha would make a wonderful godmother.”

Clint had to bark out a laugh. “Are you kidding me? We’d be getting calls from homeland security at three in the morning because of the two of them. But you’re right, she’d be amazing.”

Phil said, sounding more assured, “We’ll talk about this at a later date.”

They drove for another hour with comfortable banner between the two of them. Then Clint saw him. Clint could have spotted him a mile away. Even if he was blind. 

“Dad,” Phil greeted, one hand coming out to shake his father’s hand. The shake turned quickly into a respectably moderate hug. Nothing over the top, but clearly familiar. Methodical, even. 

Clint hung back a little and tried to get a good look at K Coulson. Okay, so his last name probably wasn’t Coulson. Clint actually knew that Coulson was Phil’s mother’s maiden name, which meant his father had a different last name, but since Phil hadn’t given him more than K, it was what he was going to go with. 

K was … a really scary looking guy. Stern faced, with perfect posture and a look that said he’d seen things that Clint couldn’t even begin to imagine. And Clint had seen Doom getting a little frisky with Loki and the resulting aftermath with Thor who’d been equal parts outraged and jealous.

Clint was beginning to think that all of his teammates had raging boners for each other. And Loki, of course. 

Clint introduced, “Dad, you remember Clint. Clint, meet my father again.”

“Nice to see you, sir.”

Clint shoved his hand out a bit awkwardly, thinking that maybe it was best to shake the hand of the man he wanted to marry. K looked down at his hand and then over to Phil.

“We should get going,” Phil said quickly, nudging Clint out of the way.

All in all, the meeting could have gone worse. And like expected, Clint was relegated to the backseat as Phil’s father rode shotgun. Clint tried not to feel like a petulant child.

“Monte Carlo,” K observed. Even sitting down, he looked stiff.

“I like Chevy, dad.”

“Never too late for a Buick.”

K was a little monotone, Clint was beginning to notice. 

At least Phil looked happy. He looked the happiest he’d been in a long while, even happier than the day that Rogers had personally presented Phil with a signed and complete collection of his vintage cards. Then Rogers had stammered on about how he knew it didn’t make up for the lost cards, and how sorry he was, and Clint had kind of stood in the background and glared at Fury who at least had the decency to look a little sorry.

“How’s J?” Phil asked. 

Who the hell was J? And why did Phil know all these people with letters for names?

“Same as always,” K said, actually sounded a little amused. “A little less rough on the edges these days. I think he’ll work out after all.”

Phil laughed a little. “It’s been over a decade.”

“These things work themselves out when they do,” K reasoned.

In the rearview mirror, Clint met K’s eyes. He really hated that he couldn’t tell if K just automatically hated his guts, or if that was just the way his face looked naturally. 

“Heard about Yankee stadium.”

Phil nodded. “Unfortunate, actually.”

From the backseat, Clint interjected, “You’d think New York would be used to this by now. I think just about every national monument has been hit at this point.” Then he paused, not sure how much he could say. Phil liked to allude to the fact that his father had a higher clearance than he did, and it was no big secret that some of the super villains that attacked them were alien in nature, but that didn’t mean the man was in on the whole shebang. 

K turned in his seat to look at Clint. “You’d be surprised what people won’t get used to despite repeated events. It’s human nature.”

“Sure,” Clint eased out. “But they still panic every time like they’ve never had someone try to take over the planet before.”

Phil interrupted, “Civilians will be civilians. Now, how about some pancakes? I know, Clint and I will take you to our favorite place for a late breakfast. They have thirteen different types of syrups.”

Feeling a little snappish, Clint said, “You can’t even decide between powdered doughnuts and chocolate, Phil.”

Oh, and that was the moment Clint realized that K did have an ‘I hate you’ face‘, as he kindly directed it to Clint.

“But … uh …” Clint stammered, “choices are good.”

Phil hummed a little, oblivious of the way his father was trying to set him on fire with his eyes, “Maybe I’ll just go with maple after all.”

K glared harder. 

Clint was maybe a little surprised when Phil slid in next to him after they arrived at the Bistro fusion house down in Harlem, a part of the city they rarely visited despite its amazing selection of food. It was even more startling when Phil took his hand and laced their fingers above the table, in plain view of his father. 

Apparently, this was when Phil thought it would be a fun time to volunteer, “Clint’s proposed marriage.”

Clint wanted to break something. He’d planned, with Natasha’s help, to be on his best behavior and butter Phil’s father up. They’d spend two days together wherein Clint would do all the things K wanted to, and compliment him, and suck up to him more than he’d had to do with Fury that one time he wanted to get Phil out of work early so they could go catch that showing of Jersey Boys. And then, right before K was getting ready to leave, Clint would tell him how much he loved Phil, and would do his best to keep his ass out of the line of fire, and always come rescue him if any villains got any ideas and kidnapped him, and how he would very much like to have his blessing to marry him.

It was not part of the plan to let K know that before the man even remotely liked him.

“Marriage is a big step.”

Phil nodded. “I suppose it’s about time.”

K pointed out, “You’ve only been together six years. I knew your mother fifteen before I married her.”

Annoyed, Clint said, “Six years, four months, and around ten days, but who’s counting? And that’s just the amount of time I actually convinced him to let me take him out.”

Phil ignored him and told his father, “You met mom when you were six. And you only dated for three years, which is half as long as Clint and I have been in a serious relationship.”

Measured, K pressed his lips. “You’re a little young to be thinking about marriage, aren’t you son?”

For a moment Clint had thought K was talking to Phil. It took him a bit after the question turned statement to realize it was being directed at him. Captain America called people son. Hearing K use it was … disconcerting at best. Clint didn’t like it one bit, especially the way that K said it, in that way that implied K thought he was still a kid.

“I’m thirty-eight,” Clint said flatly. 

“Good age,” K said, and Clint couldn’t figure the tone in his voice out. 

“Dad,” Phil said tryingly, making Clint nervous. 

K shrugged. “Your grandfather had a midlife crisis at thirty-eight. Cashed in all his stocks and bonds. Bought into some pyramid scheme. Bankrupted the family.”

“Well,” Clint said, easing forward towards Phil’s father for the first time. He felt Phil’s thigh press against his immediately. “I think I’ve moved past the rebellious teenage years, and the experimental young adult ones. My job pretty much means everything to me, next to Phil. And I don’t have any hidden urges to lose either by buying a motorcycle or something like that. A midlife crisis seems unlikely at this point.”

“Married to the job?” K questioned.

“I love my job,” Clint corrected. “I want to be married to Phil.”

The way Phil glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, a tiny smile pulling at the edges of his mouth, said he’d done something right finally.

K chewed thoughtfully on a pancake and finally said, “Good syrup here.”

Clint signaled to a waitress, “Another round of stacks, please.”

In the next hour and a half Clint learned precisely three things about Phil’s father. One: the man had absolutely no sense of humor. It hadn’t been a fluke earlier. The man was absolutely bone dry, and every time Clint tried to lighten the mood with a quip that Phil usually told him was cute in an annoying kind of way, he got a blank face. And a pinch on the thigh very hard from Phil.

Two and three got combined, mostly because Clint had absolutely no appreciation for music in general. It was nice overall, and he didn’t mind the jazz stations that Phil tended to listen to at home, but it wasn’t anything that Clint had a particular interest in. Not like Tony who was always blasting AC/DC or Poison, or some other glam 80’s big hair rock band. And not like Natasha who was secretly an indie music junkie and fangirled over several college stations when she didn’t think anyone was looking. To Clint, music was just music, and nothing to write home about. 

Phil and his father loved the Beatles, apparently. And Elvis. The last time Clint had seen Phil flail so hard over something he was excited about, it had been when Fury had shown him the latest revision to the weapon he’d used to get the one shot in that all of SHIELD had managed on Loki on the air carrier. 

“Can’t go wrong with the classics,” K said.

Phil’s head dipped in agreement. “Icons.”

Clint felt seconds away from drooling into his palm in boredom when he was startled aware by a question. Phil’s father asked him, “You listen to music, son?”

Clint tried not to make a face. “I like …” Shooting villains in the face with his specially manufactured arrows? “Sports.”

K asked Phil, “Whatever happened to that cellist?”

“Dad,” Phil eased out, and it was the nearest to a whine Clint had ever heard come from the man. “I was never dating Thom.”

“Music isn’t everything,” Clint said, feeling a little huffy. 

“A true reflection of a man’s character,” K observed, as if he were reciting a wise proverb, “is the focus of his attention outside of work.”

Phil hummed.

“Phil’s my attention,” Clint snapped. “And with us, it’s a little hard to separate the job. We don’t take it home with us if possible, but Phil and our job, that’s all that matters to me.” And getting shitfaced with his friends on Asgardian mead after a close call in the field. 

“Too much focus on work can lead to obsession.”

Clint pinched Phil hard under the table. 

“But a healthy focus,” Phil said, speaking up with only the slightest stutter, “is a desirable quality in a partner.”

K’s attention went to his coffee after that and Clint wasn’t sure what had just happened.

Apparently K also really liked golf. The guy didn’t really strike him as a golf kind of guy. He clearly, like Phil, he owned a closet full of suits. Clint figured his partner had to be some kind of a saint to put up with him, or a total smartass, and Clint was willing to wager that K hadn’t taken a vacation in years. Maybe decades. So golf? Not so much in the making sense department. K probably still thought TVs came standard with bunny ears these days, which made the idea of him watching the sport something Clint thought he could rule out. 

As Phil and his dad launched into an even more excruciatingly boring conversation, Clint signaled to the waitress to get the check. He was starting to feel claustrophobic, sandwiched in between Phil and the wall, with Phil’s dad in front of him.

Waiting for the check, Clint threw in, “Doesn’t Tony have his own personal golf course?” He thought he’d heard something about that before, and even if he hadn’t, it was likely. Tony liked to own a little bit of everything, even if the point was just to say he had it. 

“He does,” Phil said, because Phil knew everything about Tony Stark. Clint had been the one to suffer for days on end when Phil had first been assigned to assess Tony. 

“I think Tony is busy trying to ply Steve into his bed with fancy art museums and retro diners. He probably wouldn’t eve notice if we played a couple rounds.” And by play he meant hang back at the car and take a nap while Phil and his dad droned on about the sixties and Americana and Watergate, and all the other stuff that made Clint want to desperately fall into a coma. 

Phil’s eyebrows lifted. “Interested, dad?”

It was the first time K even looked remotely happy to be there, other than when he’d first seen Phil hours earlier. The man nodded and Clint felt a little victorious. 

He snagged the check from the waitress, paid for it easily and told K directly, “I’ll take care of it.” His head tipped a little too Phil. “I always take care of things. Especially the important ones.”

K’s eyebrows rose.

Phil excused himself to the restroom and Clint tried not to feel smug.

Then K said, “I have to be honest with you, kiddo,” which only grated on Clint’s nerves, “but if you’re hoping to win me over with your sparkling personality--”

Clint cut him off and corrected, “My amazingly sparkling personality. It’s so shiny it makes Edward Cullen look like a dud.”

For the record, Clint had never actually read Twilight. But he was kind of a sucker for the internet, and rolling memes, and Twilight seemed to come up as the butt of everyone’s joke a lot. He’d seen five minutes of the first movie, and decided he’d get more intellectual stimulation from helping Phil shine his shoes. But still, he knew who Edward Cullen was.

“No need to be hostile, sport.”

“The nicknames,” Clint said, “they’re your thing, right? And I’m not being hostile.” Hostile was when he’d punched Fury in the face for lying about Phil being dead.

“I’m only looking out for Phillip.”

Plainly, Clint told him, “Phil loves me. He chose me. He thinks I’m worth something. So considering that, and the fact that I’d lay down my life for him in a second, desert my post without hesitation, and give up everything just to have another morning with him, I pretty much don’t think that anything else matters. Including your concern for Phil. He’s a big boy. He’s a damn fine man. I think he can make these calls on his own.”

K was looking at him hard. Judging him. Clint knew the look.

“I mean … uh … sir,” Clint suddenly felt very nervous. 

K reached into his pocket for the tip, even though Clint had left one already when he’d paid the bill. The older man set the crisp dollars on the table and remarked, “You really should reconsider Elvis. I think I’d like you a little more, bud, if you enjoyed Elvis.”

Phil came back from the bathroom looking a little cautious, and it was enough for Clint to believe that his need to go had been very real. He sort of looked like he’d expected to come back to ground zero, which was ridiculous because Clint couldn’t very well beat up the guy he wanted to get a blessing from, and Phil’s dad really seemed like the type to pull out some crazy Asian kung-fu on his ass and own him hard. 

“Everything alright here?”

“There a reason it wouldn’t be?” K slid free from the table and graced Phil with the smallest of smiles.

“Peachy,” Clint said.

He wasn’t sure what had just happened.

As it turned out, Tony Stark did have his own private golf course. When Clint called him, whining about Phil’s father trying to set him on fire with his mind, he got a breathy response from Stark in the form of, “You’re an Avenger and you’re scared of some guy’s father?”

From where Clint was standing, he could see Phil and his father. The two were engaged in a conversation that looked riveting for them, but Clint guessed would have been a snore fest for himself. They were currently stopped in front of a convenience store to pick up a paper for the day, and a few other essentials.

“Not just some guy,” Clint hissed into his phone. “And he’s weird. He’s like this perfect little robot that likes the Beatles and doesn’t know what the word humor is, and keeps trying to bait me into saying something stupid.”

Tony gave a grunt. “You know, they say you can tell about a girl when you look at her mother.”

“Wash your mouth out with soap.”

“My mouth is about to be busy.”

Clint paused, feeling suddenly flushed. “Tony?”

“Can you hurry it up a little,” Tony asked, voice strained. “I’m not as spry as I used to be.”

A little muffled in the background, a voice came, “It must have killed you to admit that, Tony.”

“Are you … are you fucking kidding me, Stark? Is Steve there? You picked up the phone during sex?”

Clint could almost hear the smile on Tony’s face as the man said, “I’ll have you know I’m excellent at multitasking.”

“You’re an asshole,” Clint snapped. 

“Get to the point.”

A bit away, Phil turned to look at him, a small grin pulling at him. Clint felt a flush of something that was probably infatuation. Six years down the road, and he was still as in love with Phil as he had been from the beginning. He was starting to get that movie Natasha liked to make him watch when she was on her period. He was kind of figuring out how those two old people had loved each other for so long in the Notebook. 

“Phil’s dad likes golf,” Clint rushed to say. “And while I’ve kind of given up on getting the guy to like me, I do want him to be able to stand me. So please tell me you have a private golf course somewhere.”

Tony snorted. “Of course I do.”

Clint pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well?”

Tony gave a low, guttural moan.

“Stark!”

“Whatever,” Tony said dismissively. “Have at it.”

“Tony,” Steve’s voice came from the distance.

“Got to go!”

When the phone clicked off, Clint felt like throwing it. Today was their day off. It was the reason Tony was currently getting laid, and not trying to duck out of a meeting or training exercise. And for fuck’s sake, he should have been doing the same. He ought to have Phil in bed, in his birthday suit, making him forget his name.

Not standing out on a New York street corner like a hooker, waiting desperately for the smallest of breadcrumbs from his pimp. In this scenario, Phil’s dad was the pimp, which made Clint feel all kinds of awkward. 

Clint made his way back over to the pair and announced, “Good news. Tony’s a little … tied up with Steve at the moment, but he said we’ve got free reign of the golf course. As long as wee need it, it’s ours.”

K was shuffling through the paper, not paying him any mind. 

“Well, that’s good,” Phil said brightly. “It’ll be nice to have a quiet, non-alarming day for once. The less destruction of property, the better.”

Clint made a sound. “It’s private property, Phil. And it’s Tony’s, so even if we started another war on Tony’s personal greens, it would still be Tony’s problem. In fact he might appreciate the excitement.”

K suggested, “I somehow doubt that Nick would appreciate that all too much.”

Clint made a face at Phil. “Nick?”

“Director Fury,” Phil clarified. “He and my father have been close friends for a while now.”

Why was Clint not surprised?

The paper in K’s hands came down finally and he patted Phil on the back. “I’ll never forgive him for stealing Phillip right out from under me.”

“Dad,” Phil said, sounding a little bashful. His voice was low as he added, “MIB was never for me.”

Clint’s head cocked a little. What was MIB? Neither of the men in front of him seemed to have realized it had slipped out.

“Always a spot for you if you want it,” K said. “We haven’t had a P in six months.”

Suddenly, Clint was feeling a little threatened. Phil was his partner. Phil was his handler, and they were Avengers together. Well, technically Phil wasn’t an Avenger, but Clint dared anyone to say he wasn’t as important to the team as anyone else. They had a job, a good one at that, with the Avenger program. That was where they belonged, and Clint would be damned if he let anyone steal Phil from him.

“I think,” Clint broke in, stepping closer to Phil, “that everyone is really happy where they are.”

K pursed his lips. “You like to get your hands dirty, don’t you, sport?”

“Saving New York and the planet?” Clint asked, eyes narrowing. “If that’s what it comes to.”

K turned to the last page in the paper. “There are less messy ways to take care of the same problem.”

“Is that what MIB does? It takes care of business without getting any hands dirty?”

Phil looked at him oddly and K seemed amused as he said, “We try.” 

“Clint,” Phil said, taking him by the bicep. “Why don’t you come with me for a moment.”

K added, “At MIB, spandex uniforms are optional.”

“Maybe I like spandex!” Clint snapped, before Phil wrenched him away by the arm and around the corner. 

“What are you doing?” Phil demanded when they were alone. “Are you a jealous twelve year old girl?”

Clint took a deep breath. “Your dad is being an ass.”

Phil’s features lightened. “He’s not. That’s just how he is.”

“He’s baiting me. On purpose. Making all these little digs. Trying to … he’s …”

“He’s testing out the waters,” Phil explained gently. His hold on Clint loosened. “He’s not very confrontational, and this is how he deals with new situations. He won’t ever admit it, but he’s a little thrown by how long we’ve been together, and how we’ve managed to make our relationship work. He doesn’t really believe it. I get the feeling he thinks there’s something wrong with our relationship that he just can’t see, and he’s determined to get to what it is. So just bear with me, okay? Let my dad spend the next couple of day trying to sniff out a problem that isn’t really there. Do it for me?”

Phil look so damn earnest, eyes large and face hopeful. He looked like he had so much hope for Clint’s answer.

Sullen, Clint asked, “Would you ever leave the Avengers for MIB?”

“You don’t even know what MIB is.”

“Would you?” Clint pressed.

Phil shook his head slowly and deliberately. “My dad has been asking me to join MIB since I was eighteen. He tried to guilt trip me into joining MIB instead of the marines when I was younger. That was before I even knew you existed, Clint. Before I knew what Fury was getting up to. Back then he was just my dad’s mysterious friend.”

Clint was starting to feel a little better. “And now?”

“And now I have you,” Phil indulged. “So if I wouldn’t even consider it back then, right now it’s nothing but a suggestion I plan to completely ignore. I’m not leaving the Avengers for MIB. Not now, not ever. God knows you’d never survive without me.”

Grinning through his teeth, Clint felt like he could burst. “Probably. But hey, you knew Fury as a kid?”

“Teenager,” Clint corrected. 

Clint had to know, “Did he have the eye patch back then? Because we’ve got a pool going at the office about--”

Phil’s fingers wrapped around Clint’s wrist. “Come on, before my dad decides to check up on work. If he does, we could be here all day waiting for him to get off the phone.”

Clint let Phil give him a stronger tug on the wrist before he asked, “Hey, one more question. What’s MIB?”

“It’s not that far off the Avengers,” Phil said over his shoulder, pulling Clint along. “More suits and a lot less attention.”

“Attention?” Okay, to be fair, the Avengers never went looking for attention. Attention just kind of found them when one member of their team was a giant green monster, and another was a god who had way too much fun smashing things with his giant, magical hammer. Not to mention Stark, who was part attention whore by default, and too overconfident most of the time that he could buy his way out of whatever mess he created in his suit. Still, so far, the whole writing checks for property damage was actually working out well for them.

“Think of it like this,” Phil explained, “The Avengers are visible to the public. They stand as a symbol for peace and safety. MIB works behind the scenes, preventing a good deal of incidents before they can come close to the level that would require Avenger intervention. MIB is preventative, more than anything.”

“Oh.”

Phil reiterated, “And there are a lot of suits. A dress code. It’s almost a way of life.”

“You like suits,” Clint said suspiciously, feeling a little nervous again. Phil really liked his suits.

Phil’s mouth pulled tight. “Not as much as I like you.”

Phil’s dad was just out of earshot when Clint leaned in close, and said determinedly, “Careful now. You’ll get me all worked up and then we’ll have to do something about that.”

“Don’t make me put you on probation, Barton.”

Clint felt positively wolfish. “I’ve been a naughty boy, sir.”


	2. Chapter Two

Tony’s private greens were eighteen holes of something that had to be pure heaven to a golf enthusiast, at least if the way Phil’s father was looking at them. All Clint could think about was how long it was going to take them to get through all of the holes. He was probably looking at hours of Phil’s father for company. At least.

The worst part?

Only the barest hint of staff seemed to be there. A quick inquiry had told Clint that Tony almost absolutely never used the golf course. So he employed a staff to keep the place looking beautiful, but nothing more.

So Clint? He ended up as a glorified caddy. A fucking caddy. For Phil’s dad.

Phil winced at him apologetically as his father inspected a set of clubs.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Phil whispered to Clint fiercely as his father fetched a golf cart. Phil sounded almost afraid, or nervous, like he expected Clint to walk off or refuse. If anything, the tone shook Clint. Phil’s father was a total pill. But Clint loved Phil, and nothing was going to chase him away. And if he had to carry around the man’s golf clubs for a couple hours in order to get the man to give his blessing for their relationship, then it was a small price to pay.

Plus, if MIB was anything like being in the Avengers, a new emergency would pop up soon. Maybe even before K was scheduled to leave. Clint could pray.

“It’s fine,” Clint said through gritted teeth.

K rode up in the golf cart within seconds and told Clint, “There should be enough room for you and the clubs in the back. If not, just put them in. Get in, Phillip.”

Clint eye the two seat golf cart as Phil shrugged. “Yeah. Sure.”

So clearly, thirty minutes later, Clint realized that when K had wanted to play golf with them, he’d really only meant Phil. And sure, whatever, Phil was his kid, and they might have talked frequently on the phone, but they didn’t get to see each other all that often. So Clint hung back, and the let them have their space, and dealt with how shitty the day was. 

And then K called over to him, “Ball flew in the pond. You don’t mind getting that for me, do you champ?”

Clint looked over to the point where a tiny white ball was floating near the middle. 

“Clint,” Phil said, like he was going to tell Clint not to.

K looked at him expectantly. 

“Alright,” Clint ground out. He rolled up his sleeves. 

There were ducks in the pond. They hated him and for the record, ducks are mean.

“If you want to go home,” Phil said, and offered Clint a hand out of the pond, “to change, I’ll understand.”

Drenched from head to toe, Clint hoisted himself out with Phil’s help and pushed a hand across his brow. “No. I’m fine.” He looked up at the sun. It wasn’t going to be a scorcher, but the temperature was decent. “I’ll go see if the manager has any spare clothes he can lend me. Maybe a uniform? I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Phillip?” 

K was back on the cart, ready to head to the next hole.

Phil hesitated.

“I’ll just walk,” Clint said with a sigh, and headed back.

They did have a spare uniform for him, which he supposed he should have been thankful for. But standing in front of the mirror in the men’s locker room, he eyed the white and green laced jumper, and contemplated for a moment before saying, “Now I really look like your dad’s bitch, Phil.” He half expected the man to jump out from behind a row of lockers and lecture him about proper golf course etiquette. 

It was just past noon when Clint called Natasha up. He’d had mind enough to stash his phone along with his wallet in a protective locker before heading out on the course, so that was something. She picked up right away and asked, “Aren’t you supposed to be winning Phil’s dad over? Why’re you calling me?”

“I’m wet,” Clint said plainly. “Phil’s dad wanted me to get his golf ball back from the pond. There were ducks and they chased me and I’m wet.”

“Clint?”

“And he hates me. He’s just toying with me, making me do all these things that he knows I don’t want to. He’s made me his bitch, Tasha.”

“A whiny bitch, too.”

“Natasha!”

She sighed heavy on the other side of the line. “Look, Clint, you don’t actually have to do anything he says. You’re a grown man.”

“He already knows.” Clint clenched his eyes shut.

“Knows what?” Natasha asked.

“That I want to ask Phil to marry me. That I want him to marry me, and he knows damn well that Phil will want his blessing before he goes through with it. He knows and he’s using it against me, turning me into his little--”

“--bitch. Yeah. I got it.” 

“I can’t say no,” he reasoned. “I need his blessing. So I’m stuck being his little bitch, and getting his golf balls for him.”

“You ever think about telling Phil that his father is making digs at you?”

“No.” Clint bent to slip a pair of loaner white tennis shoes on. “You don’t know how much they mean to each other. It’s like … Tasha, I wouldn’t get married to anyone you wouldn’t give your blessing to. It’s like that. He’s as important to Phil, as you are to me.”

He could almost see her, looking so kind and touched, such a difference from the strong persona she usually carried. “Clint.”

“It’s like that.”

She hedged, “Are you absolutely sure you want to get married to Phil?” Clint made a strangled sound. “It’s just a piece of paper. Everyone you know, and who’s important to you, already knows what you and Phil are to each other. So why do you need a piece of paper or a ring or any more than that? And is it worth trailing after Phil’s father like you are right now?”

Was it? In a lot of ways, both Natasha and Phil had said the same thing to him. It was just a piece of paper. Everyone knew that he and Phil lived together. They were each other’s medical proxies. Everyone knew they were in love, and were monogamous, and were every bit as much a couple as Mary and George Perkins who lived two floors down from them and had been married fifteen years. Except … Mary and George were married, and he and Phil weren’t.

It probably shouldn’t have been such a big deal. But to Clint, for whatever reason, it was. He wanted that stupid little piece of paper. He wanted the right to call Phil his husband. He wanted to look down on his finger and see that ring, and see what it represented and if he wanted to, show it to the whole damn world. That was his right. And that was what he wanted.

“I’d do this for the rest of my life,” Clint told her. “I would be his little bitch for the rest of my life if it meant that Phil would say yes and marry me and be my husband. So yes, Natasha, it’s worth it. And that’s why when I get off this phone, I’m probably going to go right back out there to where Phil and his father are. And I’m going to run after their balls, and walk to the next hole because there isn’t room for me on the golf cart, and I’m going to let Phil’s dad make a ton of little comments that sound innocent enough until you realize that he’s just trying to bait me into being an idiot. Or prove that I am one. Whichever. And then, at the end of this weekend, when Phil’s dad has to go back out to wherever his partner is, I’m going to ask for his permission, and that man is going to give it to me.”

“Or else?”

“Or else,” Clint ground out, “I’m going to show him why I’m an Avenger. And how I take care of business.”

Natasha supposed, “Speaking of Avenger business, the Cap and I were talking earlier about how Loki has been quiet for a bit now. That’s not like him. Even that heist with Doom wasn’t really up to par with his usual.”

Clint laughed. “It’s not like he’s out there trying to tear down the city every weekend.”

“No,” she agreed, “but he usually pops in more frequently to taunt us. He and Fury like to play Where in the World is Carmen San Diego. We haven’t seen him since …”

“Since what?” Clint demanded. “Since he decided he wanted to taunt us with Phil again? That was not cool, Tasha. And he knew what he was doing. On purpose.”

“Of course it was on purpose.” She gave what sounded like a small snort. “What I’m saying is, whenever Loki pops up, the Avengers will get the call. If I were you, I’d start praying for that. I’m sure Phil’s father would understand work taking a priority over his visit.”

Clint popped open the locker in front of him. “With my luck, he’d jump right in and take charge. Maybe he’d start telling me how ineffective my strategy is for dealing with Loki.”

“I highly doubt Rogers would appreciate that.”

“Rogers is busy bending Stark over right now.”

The line went quiet for a moment, then Natasha said, “I’m going to go now.”

“Natasha?” Clint felt stunned. “Does that seriously do it for you? That mental picture? I mention Phil in even a slightly sexual way and you act like I just doused you with tear gas. But Stark and Rogers does it for you? Really?”

She snapped, “Don’t judge me, Barton.”

The phone line clicked and Clint tossed the phone into his locker.

Phil and his father weren’t on the greens anymore. It was a little hard to tell how long he’d been gone, between falling into the pond completely and making the twenty minute walk back to the clubhouse to wrangle up a spare change of clothes. But it must have been long enough for lunch to come, because as he passed through the lobby, he caught sight of Phil and his father in the lounge area, sharing a meal.

“Clint,” Phil called to him. “Over here.”

“You started without me,” Clint observed. It was only a pair of sandwiches and a couple of plain green salads, but it was the fact of the matter.

“You were gone a long time,” Phil said, head tipping towards the spare chair next to him. 

“Prudence is something to be admired,” K said.

Clint mumbled, “I bet it is.”

When he was seated, Phil gave a small gesture over his shoulder and said, “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

“I fell in the fucking pond,” Clint hissed quietly at him. “Getting your dad’s golf ball. One of dozens he had, I might add.”

Phil’s hand fell to Clint’s thigh under the table and he squeezed firmly in reassurance. “And I appreciate that.”

A plate filled high with fries and a burger appeared in front of Clint. 

“You are a god among men,” Clint said, trying not to drool over the best looking burger he’d ever seen in his life. God bless Phil. 

“I thought you might be hungry,” Phil said with a smile. “So I ordered for you.”

Clint let his own hand cover Phil’s and squeezed back. “Thanks.”

The burger was as good as it looked and Phil’s hand hardly let up off him. If he tried really hard, and didn’t look to his left at all, he could almost pretend that it was just him and Phil, having lunch together. 

Almost.

There were a couple more holes on the green to play, and by the time they finished the sun was beginning to dip in the background. The day was almost over and he was almost home free.

And seriously, Clint must have been a fucking saint in a past life, not only because for some stupid reason, Phil had decided to love him, but also because as they left the golf course, Phil let him know, “You can drop us down by nineteenth and Mason. I know you and Natasha have plans later tonight.”

“Plans,” Clint echoed for a moment, before Phil looked like he might want to strangle Clint, and Clint realized the out he was being given. “Oh! Yeah. I wasn’t sure you’d remember. You sure you don’t need me to stay?”

Phil looked over to his dad, and then back at Clint. “No. I think we’re good. We’ll catch the train home.”

Sometimes Clint forgot that Phil was a New York boy. Born and raised. Phil had an old neighborhood, and good memories of the city, and places to visit with loved ones. 

In a chance move, one that Clint refused to feel embarrassed over, he leaned up and across the car’s front and back divider to kiss the corner of Phil’s mouth, so eternally thankful for a reprieve from the man’s father. 

Before Phil had almost died, before Clint had almost died from the loss, they’d never been that affectionate. Especially not in front of other people, and certainly never in front of someone like Phil’s father. But almost loosing someone … it did something to a guy. Now, regardless of what anyone thought, or the butterflies in his stomach at the idea of being seen, he kissed Phil as often as he thought the man would let him.

“Got an idea when you’ll be home?” Clint asked when they hit nineteenth. 

“Not really,” Phil said with a happy shrug. “I think we’ll go see some of the old neighborhood. Keep the oil burning for us?”

“Always,” Clint swore, sliding into the front seat.

Phil shared a warm smile with him and it was more than enough to remind Clint why he was putting up with K.

He didn’t, just for the record, have any plans with Natasha. And contrary to some people who seemed to think that they spent every waking moment together hanging out and sharing secrets, Natasha had a busier life than Clint did. When it came to making time, it was always her who had to shuffle things around. And Clint was okay with that. Until now.

With Stark and Rogers busy … getting busy … and Bruce doing science-y things, that left Clint with the option of hanging out with Thor, who’d mostly be angsting his life away about his completely platonic and not at all incestuous love for his brother (god, that got Clint) or a couple of the other operatives from SHIELD that Clint was more familiar with. Maybe even friends with. 

Going it alone seemed the better option.

There was this place down on McGregor Court and the intersection of Georgia Street, right at the corner that served pie from sun up to sun down, and had the best damn coffee in all of the tri-state area. Phil was the big coffee drinker, practically ran on it, and it was usually too bitter for Clint in general, but Tully’s Bakery had coffee that never really seemed to taste like coffee. It was sweet without needing cream or sugar, and went down smooth. He and Phil had found the place just before the Avengers had come together, and it was kind of their spot. Clint would have the pecan pie and Phil would have the cherry, then they’d sit in comfortable ease while Phil read the paper and Clint watched the people pass by outside. Tully’s had the most amazing floor to ceiling windows. Perfect for people watching. 

Tully’s was mostly empty when Clint arrived, but that was a good thing. He was able to snag a piece of pie without much of a wait, fill his mug up and cram into the far corner nearest the left window for a little bit of people watching. Going home without Phil seemed a lesson in personal torture, and it was easier for him to spend the next couple of hours hanging out at his favorite haunt. 

He was halfway through his pie when there was a presence to his left. Clint was a little baffled as he looked between the two boys standing near him, nearly identical facially, but with completely different hair.

The darker haired one, the boy with the more genuine smile, bounced a little as he said, “You’re Hawkeye, aren’t you?”

Clint nodded, wondering if they wanted him to sign an autograph. He was getting recognized more frequently now, with each new threat the Avengers beat back. Phil was getting on him to wear a mask, or at the very least not appear so accessible to the public, but Clint kind of liked the way he was. Some people could be a little pushy, but for the most part it was nice to have kids telling him that he was their hero. Never let it be said Clint Barton did not like flattery.

“You are, aren’t you?” the boy’s brother asked, a bit of an edge to his voice. His hair was so white it was almost silver. “We’ve got a friend who has a massive hard-on for you.”

Clint choked on his coffee.

The brunet elbowed his brother and said, “Shut it, Tommy. Kate would kill you if she heard you.” The boy turned back to Clint and said, “I’m Billy. This is my brother Tommy. We just wanted to say we think you’re awesome.”

The white haired one, Tommy, scoffed. “Make it sound like we’re in love with him, why don‘t you. What would Teddy think?”

Billy’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know, Tommy. Let’s ask Kate what she thinks about that raging boner you seem to think she has.”

Clint cut in smoothly, “Boys, it’s great to meet you. I’m sure you’re wonderful citizens.”

Tommy nearly snorted out, “Is that the approved Avengers dialogue you’re supposed to use?”

“My boyfriend says so,” Clint answered cheekily. 

Billy seemed like he could faint with happiness at any second. “You’re so cool.”

Tommy looped his arm through his brother’s and gave him a tug, indicative of their relationship. “Come on, Romeo. You heard him, he’s taken, and so are you, if you’ll remember.” They trotted off with Tommy adding, “I’m way more awesome than he is. At least I have real powers.”

Clint took a long drink from his cup and smiled into the liquid. 

“Darling little pains in the butt, aren’t they?”

Clint looked over to the man seated near him. “What is it with people interrupting me from trying to get a little peace today? You want a piece of this awesomeness too, Storm?”

Johnny Storm rested his chin into his palm and said in a falsetto, “You’re just the most amazing Avenger ever, Mr. Hawkeye. Would you please give me your autograph?”

Clint gestured for Johnny to join him. “I take it you know those boys?”

“Tommy and Billy?” Johnny asked with a shrug, moving to Clint’s table. “They live around here. The younger one, he’s got a bad case of hero worship. Thinks everyone who fights crime or wears spandex is completely awesome. But the other boy?”

“Yeah,” Clint laughed, “I got the feeling he was here for his brother.”

“Billy told me I was swell,” Johnny said, “he actually used that word. The kid is a Captain America fan, I bet. But his brother Tommy? He told me I was okay, but he thought the Thing was much cooler.”

Clint tipped his mug to Johnny in salute. “Gotta love kids these days.”

Johnny met him with his own mug and asked, “So from one swell superhero to another, what’re you doing here?”

Clint looked down at his nearly gone pie, and then back to Johnny. 

“Point,” the man conceded. “But you usually come in here with that arm candy of yours. And much earlier in the morning than this.”

“Arm candy?” Clint balked at the description of Phil. “Said arm candy would probably nail you to the wall with his favorite staple gun if he heard you call him that. And that’s not the way I’d describe Phil anyway.” Handsome. Charming. Maybe even classic, but not arm candy. Arm candy was a Tony thing, at least before a certain Captain had come into his life.

“Arm candy,” Johnny defended, smiling almost smugly. “It’s in the way he looks at you, birdie. Like, if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was getting paid to be that into you. That kind of arm candy.”

Clint snorted. “Stop while you’re ahead, or I’m going to call up Smokey the Bear.”

Johnny grinned a smile full of teeth. “I had to do a PSA with him once. Reed thought it would be good publicity, after I burned down that church in Hoboken, which was a complete accident no matter what anyone says.”

The way that Phil looked at him? He got what Johnny meant, but Clint spent most of his time thinking that the sun shined out of Phil’s ass, too much time to think it could be the other way around, as well. God knew Phil had the most annoying tendencies, including his ability to nag on Clint about cleaning up after himself, and an overly cheerful disposition that sometimes acted as a buffer to avoid being hurt. But overall? Yeah, if anyone was arm candy, Clint thought he was, hanging off Phil’s arm, hanging on every word, ready jump on cue.

The follies of being in love, unfortunately. 

“So what are you,” Clint asked, a sharpness to his voice, “stalking me or something?”

“Stalking you?” Johnny snorted.

“Well,” Clint pointed out, “you seem to watch my favorite dinner date enough to know some things that could be considered pretty creepy, FYI. Not to mention you know my habits. So either you’re stalking me, or you’re just as hopeless as I am. Which is it?”

Johnny, who was maybe too handsome for his own good, touched the edge of Clint’s arm. Though he didn’t turn, he said, “See that girl at the front? The one refilling the coffee?”

“The waitress?”

“Her,” Johnny confirmed. “She used to work the earlier shift, during the day, mostly when you and Coulson like to come in. Now she works late, and this isn’t the worst part of town, but I like to hang around and make sure no one gets any ideas. Just in case.”

The waitress was pretty, with curls of red hair falling over her shoulders and warm brown eyes. She had a pleasant smile, but she wasn’t really what Clint took to be Johnny’s type. Johnny always seemed the guy to go for more of a challenge, and not the girl next door look. 

“So you’re not stalking me,” Clint observed, “you’re stalking her.”

Johnny’s eyes crinkled. “Not like you’re thinking. I know … I knew her sister. I’m just looking out for her. I’m just … keeping an eye on her.” Johnny downed the rest of his coffee and still didn’t turn to the girl in question.

“Oh. That’s .. unexpected.”

“So what about you?”

Clint grimaced at the change in topic. “I kind of popped the question to Coulson. Shitty timing on my part, but I meant it. But Phil’s got this stick in the mud of a dad. And he hates my guys, which is just the cherry on top of him already disapproving of the idea of Phil marrying me. So I’ve just spent the entire day trying to kiss his ass so hard my lips are bruised, and all I think I accomplished is making him think I’m a brownnoser.”

Johnny laughed loudly. “Kind of hoping for a villain intervention? It’s sad, but I think most of us hope for one of those eventually.”

“Loki’s been quiet for almost a week now, which is coming up on a record for him if he isn’t planning something big. But how about Doom? I’d owe you a favor if you could manage to provoke him attacking down by, say, how about Harlem? Harlem hasn’t gotten hit in a while. Or Queens. Everyone hates Queens anyway.”

“I doubt Reed and Sue would appreciate that, but Ben might be up for it. Want me to check?”

Clint waved a hand with a sigh. “Nah. Fury would come down on me like a shit-ton of bricks. Did I mention that Fury and Phil’s dad are apparently BFFs? That is the nature of my life.”

The people on the street in front of them passed by quickly, paying no mind to them. They were all huddled against the cold of the night, scarves flapping in the wind. 

“Sounds like more trouble than you think it’s worth.”

“No,” Clint answered right away, a little taken by how much anxiety had built in his chest over the mere idea. “It’s …. he’s worth it. Shit, Storm, if you knew Phil.”

“I’ve spent enough time around Coulson,” Johnny answered. “He’s probably the least offensive guy in Shield. But it sounds like his dad is running you through the ringer. And what you guys have, it works right now, right? So maybe you shouldn’t press it. Leave things as they are. And stop, as you said, kissing your boyfriend’s father’s ass so hard your lips are bruising. Cut your losses.”

“You never had anyone?” Clint asked, a little surprised at himself. “Someone that you’d sell your soul to the devil for? And kiss more than enough ass to protect? I’ve got the taste of ass so far down my throat that I think I’m going to have to buy stock in mouth wash. But you’d bet your flashy, homoerotic ass that I will gladly swallow the taste down a million times for Phil.”

Johnny pursed his lips and traced the rim of his coffee cup with a finger. “Must be nice.”

“The taste of ass?”

Johnny mugged him hard with the dirtiest look he could manage. “Having someone that going through anything is worth. A lot of people would kill to have what you do. I don’t think you’re the type, but don’t take it for granted.”

Clint couldn’t help looking back over to the waitress, his own mouth turning upward as she laughed at something a customer told her. 

“No one like that for you? Not even close?”

Finally, for the first time Clint had seen, Johnny looked over his shoulder, at the waitress who’s nametag read Annie. “I thought so, a couple times. Came close, once. But so far, nope.” Johnny cracked a pearly smile. “But I’m still young. Not like I want to get tied down with something like marriage, anyway. Don’t want to get old.”

Clint glared. “Old.”

Johnny said, “Let’s just say I’m still testing the waters. Just having fun, before marriage even comes into the picture, and I have little Johnny flying around behind me.”

Clint gave a loud snort. “If I remember properly, your idea of testing the waters was a two week sex marathon with Tony Stark in Malibu.”

Johnny hit him playfully in the shoulder, as if they were old friends, and the topic of sex and Tony was something that didn’t really make Clint a little sick to think about. He regretted bringing it up already. 

“That?” Johnny barked out gleefully, “We both know that was just stress relief. Kill a guy for getting it out of his system, why don’t you? Plus, you, me, and everyone West of the Hudson knows that I was only sleeping with Tony because he has a reputation, and a good one at that. And he was only sleeping with me to make a certain American Icon jealous.”

Clint made a face. “You do look eerily similar to Rogers. It’s a little creepy, to be honest.”

Johnny gave him an indulging look. 

“You know what we need,” Johnny said.

“Less stressful jobs?” Clint posed. “And Valium?”

“Later.” Johnny waved a hand and climbed to his feet. “But first, we need more pie.”

“I don’t know.” Clint looked down at his plate, the pie only crumbs now. “Phil doesn’t like me to have more than one piece. Cholesterol and all that.” When Johnny gave him a look of disbelief, he added, “Phil looks at my numbers whenever I have a checkup.”

“You sure you aren’t already married?” Johnny turned to face the direction of the waitress and called out, “Hey, Annie! My friend Clint and I need another round of pie, and a refill on coffee.”

She had a hand on one hip as she asked, “Your usual?”

Johnny shrugged. “Whatever you think is good. But lots of whipped cream on top, okay?” Johnny settled back into his seat and told Clint, “Second time around, you have to have whipped cream on the pie. It’s law.”

“Law,” Clint echoed. 

“Law,” Johnny insisted.

Clint spent another forty-five minutes with the self-titled Human Torch, eating Peach Cobbler (which wasn’t really pie, but it was so damn good he couldn’t bring himself to care or argue the point) before he realized it would be about time to head home. 

“To sleep on the couch,” Clint told Johnny as he was gathering up his stuff. He felt bloated but sated from the pie and coffee, and surprisingly enough, from the company. 

Johnny was scraping his plate, making no move to leave and said, “One couch is another. You can always crash with me, if you want.”

Clint gave a snort. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m still more scared of Phil than his father.”

“Huh?”

Clint wagged a finger at Johnny as he placed his portion of the bill on the table. “Phil’s not really that fond of you. I’ll say it like that.”

“Everyone likes me,” Johnny said cheekily. 

“You might want to get your brother-in-law to check you out. Clearly you’ve hit your head one too many times.”

“It’s the lack of respect for authority, isn’t it?” The smile hadn’t fallen from Johnny’s face even a fraction. “Your suit of a boyfriend doesn’t like that, right?”

Clint’s head cocked. “Phil’s kind of a stickler for the chain of command.” And nearly every time that the Fantastic Four had collaborated with the Avengers, there had been a mess of orders being issued, people reluctant to follow them, and the vein in Fury’s head throbbing hard enough to actually be seen. “And he thinks you’re a loose canon. It’s nothing personal, he just thinks you’re going to get someone hurt one of these days.”

“Get you hurt, you mean.” Johnny shrugged. “Alright, then. Go home to your boyfriend and help him organize his sock drawer, or whatever you old farts do.”

“Shoes,” Clint supplied happily. “We have a shoe rack actually, and we spend each night reorganizing the shoes by functionality, color, material, and which are the most aesthetically pleasing.”

Johnny blinked wide eyes up at him. “The really scary part is, I can’t figure out if you’re pulling my chain or not.”

Clint beamed as he left Johnny in his wake. 

Phil was already home by the time Clint got there, and though Clint couldn’t see him, he imagined K was as well. 

“Now this is a sight I’d like to come home to every night,” Clint said, eyeing Phil who was bent over, wiggling a little as he worked sheets over the couch in the living room. 

“If you want to come home and sleep on the couch each night, that can be arranged.”

Clint covered the distance between them quickly and caught a strong arm around Phil’s waist. He pressed flush against the man’s back and mumbled, “I missed you.”

“We need to work on your dependency issues.”

He didn’t think that dependency issues even began to cover what he felt with Phil. He’d already lost the man once. He’d spent months thinking Phil was dead, and then the months after convinced that he was dreaming and he’d wake up one morning to find everything gone. So maybe, as much as he hated seeing Phil out in the field with the other Avengers, it also made him better to be able to keep an eye on him.

“Where’s your dad?” Clint kissed the shell of Phil’s ear and then released him to help with the sheet.

“Taking a shower. Where did you go?”

“Pie with Johnny Storm.”

Phil made a face.

“Yeah. Yeah.” Clint’s hands went up defensively. “I know you don’t like the guy, but he’s not really so bad when you don’t have to rely on him not to get you killed, and I think I deserved the extra pie after dealing with your dad all day.”

“Ah.” Phil’s eyebrows lifted. “So there was more than just once piece.”

Clint groaned and collapsed down onto the couch. 

It was a moment more before Phil sat next to him, one hand on Clint’s knee and his head tipped towards Clint’s shoulder. “Thank you for being so patient today. I’m really proud of you for keeping it together.”

“Like when your dad wanted to bring up your past relationships? Or maybe that time when he told me to go fish his golf ball out of the pond like a good boy?”

“I know he isn’t the easiest person in the world.”

“Is this why you never let me meet him before?” Clint wrapped an arm around Phil, pulling him close. “In six years, you never so much as let me talk to him on the phone. Is this the reason? Because you knew he’d hate me right away?”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Phil protested. “In fact, considering everything, he’s taken to you quite well.”

Clint deadpanned. “He’s been looking at me for the entire day like he knows the perfect place to hide the body.”

In an act of intimacy, one that spoke of the time they’d been together and the love they shared, Phil leaned forward to help Clint with his shoes. Then he stripped the man of his outer jacket and folded it over the arm of the couch carefully before tucking back in against Clint. 

Phil swore, “He’s pushing you on purpose. You’re holding up well.”

Clint’s head thumped back. “Well, be thankful you’re worth it. The overbearing dad routine is really unappealing.”

“In any case,” Phil said, kissing the corner of Clint’s mouth, “thank you.”

With a resigned sigh, Clint caught him in a stronger, fuller kiss, and remarked, “But I do get it, you know?”

“Get what?”

Their feet brushed and Clint was almost able to ignore the fact that they weren’t alone in their home. It was barely possible to pretend it was just them, relaxing on the couch, with a little heavy petting in mind at least on Clint’s end. 

“The overbearing dad thing.” Clint’s expression softened with honesty. “I understand why he’s so overprotective, even if his way of showing it is to be homicidally scary. Because if we had a kid, and god I’m not saying I want one right now, or ever, who knows, but if we did, I’d be just as scary. It’s different when it’s your kid and you stand to lose them to someone else. I don’t have to have a kid to understand that. So I don’t want your dad to think I don’t understand, because I do. Especially if we ever had a kid like you.”

“Kids, huh?” Phil looked surprised, like he hadn’t expected the topic to come back up again so soon. 

“I don’t know.” Clint shrugged. “We’ve got a shitty job for raising a family. I mean, look what happened with the Richards and their kids. And the other people we know who are in this line of business and tried to have families. It never ends well. So I don’t know.”

Face blank, Phil asked, “But if it were possible, without the danger, you’d want one?”

Clint laughed a little. “Are we planning on retiring any time soon?”

“No.” Phil kissed Clint and stood from the couch. “But I like options, Barton. I like to keep things in mind. Now, I’ll go get you a couple of pillows and I suggest you go brush your teeth in the bathroom out here with the spare brush. You taste like pie.”

“Cobbler,” Clint corrected happily. “And for the record,” he added, feeling a little foolish, “I think we’d rock as dads. We’d be the coolest ever, and our kid would have a mile long line of people willing to keep them safe.”

“I imagine Natasha would act as godmother,” Phil teased.

“She’d have my hide, if we didn’t make her godmother.”

“Fair enough.”

A kid? Clint wasn’t sure he’d ever really be ready to be a father, but the idea wasn’t completely offensive. He did think he and Phil would be the coolest parents on the block, and he did think it would be a rewarding life experience. But he couldn’t see anything like that happening in the near future. Maybe not even in the distant future. It was the only thing Clint could say for certain. 

Fifteen minutes later Clint had brushed his teeth, been handed a pair of sleeping clothes from Phil, and was sprawled out on the couch with the TV playing softly.

“Are you sure you’re okay out here?” Phil asked as he leaned in for a last kiss for the night. 

“I have slept out here before,” Clint pointed out. “Remember that time you didn’t talk to me for almost a week? I slept out here then.”

“I was mad at you then,” Phil said by way of excuse. “I’m not mad at you now. In fact, it’s the opposite.

Clint’s hand grabbed Phil’s ass suddenly and squeezed hard. 

Phil pinched Clint viciously and pulled away, frowning as the man grimaced and rubbed his arm. “I take it all back.”

“Night, dear.”

Phil shook his head as he headed towards the bedroom.

Clint laughed aloud to himself as he pulled a blanket up to his chest and began to watch a rerun of The Real Housewives of OC.

Sometimes Clint had nightmares. Sometimes he dreamed that Phil’s death hadn’t been a farce. He dreamed that he’d never found out that Fury was hiding Phil away while he recovered. And other times, Clint dreamed that there was a part of him missing, that he couldn’t pin down, until he woke and realized that the worst nightmare he could ever possible have would be one in which Phil had never been in his life at all.

And some nights he slept like the dead, not dreaming at all.

When he slept away from Phil, on a mission, or if they’d had one of their rare, very serious fights, he barely slept at all.

But that night, sprawled out on the sofa with the TV permanently fixed to Bravo, Clint managed at least six hours of uninterrupted, oddly therapeutic sleep wherein he dreamed he was a hawk. Clint didn’t know if that meant his subconscious thought that underneath it all, he was completely self obsessed, or maybe narcissistic. But in any case, by the time he was being shaken awake, he was kind of expecting a marksman (who would naturally look just a bit too much like Phil’s father) to be trying to shoot him down. Nice dreams rarely lasted nice with him.

But he was being shaken awake. It was still dark in the apartment, which meant the sun wasn’t up, and Phil was crouched in front of him already dressed.

“We on call?” Clint asked, confused from sleep, struggling to get up.

Phil pushed him back down, and smiled gently. “We aren’t, imagine that.”

Clint tried to focus his eyes as quickly as he could, the light from the now muted TV making it hard to do so. “Why are you dressed? Am I having a different dream now?”

When Phil bent and kissed him, his mouth tasted of mint freshness, and it was the strongest indicator to Clint of how long Phil had been up already. And that obviously, it wasn’t a dream. Phil was nothing but a tease in his dreams. 

“You are not dreaming. Call from HQ,” Phil explained. “There’s been an incident and I’ve been called in.”

Clint tried to kick his blankets free from his legs. “Give me a second,” he said, clearing his throat. “I can be dressed. Do we have time for coffee?”

“Clint.” Phil’s voice rose in sharpness, but not in volume. “It’s four in the morning. Go back to bed. I said I’m being called in. Fury wants me to handle this. And the sooner I leave, the sooner I can be home.”

Brain addled, Clint asked, “You? Just you?”

“Just me,” Phil confirmed. “It’s not an Avenger issue. It’s a SHIELD issue. They don’t need you down there.”

This time it was Clint who did the pushing. With firm hands he leaned on Phil just enough to gain leverage to sit up. “I’m going.”

Phil sighed. 

“What was that for?” Clint demanded. “Where you go, I go. Isn’t that the deal? You always come with me when I get called in.”

Phil pointed out, “You usually get called in for a disciplinary matter, and I’m still responsible for you, even if it’s not official any more. Fury likes to lecture me, Barton, as if I can control you.”

“Why’re they calling you in?” Clint asked suspiciously. It wasn’t as if he didn’t trust SHIELD with Phil, he just didn’t trust SHIELD with Phil. Not after the air carrier. Not after the way they’d handled Loki, and the hid the truth, and everything else that had followed.”

“Hill wasn’t exceptionally forthcoming,” Phil explained, “but the issue is in R&D. Apparently Stark made a breakthrough last night, he and Banner ran with it, and Fury needs someone to talk the two of them down from world domination.”

Face scrunched up, Clint remarked, “Tony does always like to claim that sex gives him his best ideas.” Clint shook himself free from the idea. “But can’t someone else go?”

“Several labs were damaged.” Phil shook his head slowly. “And believe it or not, Barton, but even you don’t have clearance for most of the things that Stark has his hands on. This is one of them. Plus, there’s likely to be paperwork after everything settles down. So again, I reiterate, the sooner I leave, the sooner I can come back. Trust me, there are many other things I’d rather be doing on my father’s last day here.”

At the mention, Clint startled and blurted out, “There’s no way you’re leaving me here with him. Not alone.”

“He’ll sleep for another hour at least,” Phil said. “And you won’t even see him for hours after that. Just take him out to breakfast, maybe to one of our spots. And if we’re lucky, Stark won’t have destroyed more than a couple million dollars with of property, and I’ll be able to meet you just after that.”

With a groan, Clint flopped back down. “Great. And you’re sure it has to be you? Do you think Fury would be offended if we proposed that the two of you get married instead? I mean, he gets you more than I do.”

Phil rolled his eyes and stood, adjusting the cuffs on his jacket. “Be on your best behavior with my father, please.”

“You mean don’t engage him in mortal combat for your honor?”

“Please don’t,” Phil grinned. “I kind of like you.”

“Hey!” That had sounded suspiciously as if Phil expected his father to win. “Go on,” Clint urged, waving towards the door. “And you let Stark know that he’s officially off the Christmas card list, and right onto my shit list.”

Phil paused at the door to shrug on a heavy coat against the frigid morning weather. “Duly noted. Also, try Meg’s, down on the lower side for breakfast. Amazing pancakes.”

Clint arched an eyebrow. “Pancakes.”

“My dad likes pancakes.” Phil fitted a scarf over the back of his neck. Clint saw it was the one that Natasha had picked up for him the last time she’d been out of the country. “Especially strawberry infused pancakes.”

Clint watched Phil leave and rubbed a hand over his face, trying to wake himself up completely. There was no way he was going to go back to sleep, and so he stood with the intention of making coffee and waiting out the time until K woke.

“Phil was called into the office,” Clint announced as soon as K appeared in the kitchen, just over an hour and a half later. Just as he’d expected, the man was flawless looking, already dressed and likely showered. Clint wondered if he’d actually slept at all, or maybe he’d lurked around all night, just to make sure Clint didn’t try anything with Phil while they were all in the same house.

K nodded. “Expected. Phillip takes his work very seriously.”

Clint gripped his mug hard. “Phil is basically Fury’s number one. As far as trust goes, Fury’s got more issues than probably anyone else on this planet, but he trusts Phil. Whenever something goes wrong, Phil’s number one on Fury’s speed dial. I usually go with him.”

As K poured himself a cup of coffee, he said, “I can’t imagine there’s much need for a field agent outside of the field.”

When the man sat across from him, Clint had a good idea that they’d have a repeat of the previous day. “I don’t know, I’m pretty flexible. You should ask Phil about just how flexible I am, the next time we see him.”

The corners of K’s eyes crinkled a little, in the tiniest show of annoyance, and Clint wanted to crone victory. 

Clint cleared his throat, “Anyway, Phil wants us to get breakfast this morning, and he’ll meet up with us late afternoon. I was planning to go grab the paper. You have a preference which one?” It would feel odd to skim through the Entertainment section without Phil to glance over the top of his own Business section and smirk at their distinctly different choices. 

“Going out?” K asked.

Clint thumbed out towards the city skyline. “There’s a place about a block away that Phil and I usually pick up the paper from. It opens early, and no one tries to talk to you before you’re fully awake.” That was the best part. 

“Alright, slick,” K said, “We should go get the paper.”

Wanting to groan, Clint nodded. He’d been counting on the twenty minutes he’d get away from the man while fetching the paper. But instead he found himself bundled up, traipsing down the street with his potential father-in-law next to him.

Clint picked up a copy of the Times, Wallstreet Journal, and USA Today. The fact was, he knew Phil appreciated the diversity and actual feel of newspaper in his hands in the morning. It was one of the small things that really mattered to the man, and even though he’d had to go into the office early that morning, Clint wanted the papers to be waiting for him when he finally got home that night .

“Ready?” Clint asked after they’d been at the small shop for a good ten minutes. He glanced over at what K held. “Do you have what you …” He trailed off. Seriously. Was he seeing what he was seeing?

“Waiting on you, sport.”

“Christ, Tasha,” Clint barked into the phone half an hour later. He was hiding in the bathroom and had called his best friend at the first chance he’d had. As far as he knew, K was busy reading his papers in the kitchen nook, and would be ready to leave for breakfast shortly. 

Natasha grumbled a little into the phone. 

“We went to get the paper,” Clint charged on, “and do you know what he bought? Do you know what he made me buy? Trash magazines! Not even the paper! He wanted all of these gossip magazines, you know, the ones that say Elvis is in hiding in Canada, and with interviews with people who claim Michael Jackson went home to Mars.”

“I will murder you, Barton.”

Clint gave pause. “Did you just wake up?”

She mumbled a little. 

“Well, wake up! And tell me, who reads that shit? Who does that? People magazine I could understand, but one of the magazines had Batboy on it. Batboy!”

“There are actual gods running around Earth from time to time, stirring up trouble and trying to take chunks out of each other. And you think Batboy is a stretch?”

“It’s different,” Clint huffed. He glanced down at his watch and asked, “Did I really wake you, Tasha?”

He heard shuffling on her end and then she said, “It’s okay. Are you having a breakdown?”

Clint said, “Phil got called in by Fury this morning, and apparently they didn’t need me. So it’s just me and the father-in-law from hell. Phil expects me to take him out for breakfast all by myself.”

“And you’re calling me why?”

Clint took a deep breath and said honestly, “I don’t know. Because … I’m worried. I’m … because you’re Natasha okay, and you have an answer for everything, so shut up and tell me that everything is going to be okay.”

“Clint.” As stupid as it was, her tone made everything feel better right away. “Everything will be okay.”

He urged, “Tell me how come.”

“Stop being so insecure.”

“Tasha.”

“Because,” she stressed out, “you’re a total dick, Barton, but you’re a lovable dick. You do the stupidest things, but you have a good heart. And no matter what anyone has to say about you, you treat Phil like a prince, and there is nothing you wouldn’t do for him. Phil’s father may be able to see quite clearly that you’re a dick, but if that’s the case, he’s also able to see how much you love his son. He may not like it, but he’ll be able to see it. So deal, Barton. Not everyone is going to like you, but there’s a difference between liking someone and respecting them. He’ll respect someone who loves his son, even if he’ll never tell you that.”

“Thanks,” Clint eased out. “Thank you.”

“Now Clint, there’s one other thing. Listen carefully.”

Clint eased himself down on the closed toilet lid, wiping a sweaty palm on his pant leg. “Go ahead.”

“I have to be on a plane to Madrid in six hours,” she said, “and you just robbed me of another couple hours of sleep so that you could whine to me about how meeting the inlaws is hard. So you’re going to hang up this phone now, and live with the knowledge that if you ever do this to me again, I’m going to rip off your balls and we’ll see just how much Phil wants to be married to a man who’s very unable to perform, if you catch my drift.”

Clint swallowed heavily. “Got it, Tasha. Crystal clear. Thanks.” He ended the call and made a mental note to order her a pound of chocolate for when she got back State side. 

K was finished thumbing through his magazines by the time Clint made it back to him, and he put on a brave face, still feeling reassured from Natasha’s words. He said, “Let’s get going. I’m going to take you to this place that serves the best pancakes in all of New York.”

“Pancakes?” K seemed to perk up. 

“Best pancakes in the state.” Clint rocked back a little on his heels. “There’s even a rumor that they have the strawberry kind.”

Clint gave himself another point as K strolled towards the front door. 

Who’d have thought pancakes could be a way in?

However, of course, things were awkward again the moment they were seated in a booth across from each other in the packed restaurant, waiting to order.

“So, uh,” Clint started out, “I feel like we haven’t really gotten to know each other very much. I know Phil would really like it if you came back to visit us more frequently, so how about we change that? What do you like to do for fun? Besides golf?” There was no way in hell Clint was getting back on a golf course with Phil and K ever again. He’d rather defect to the League of Supervillians that Loki and Doom and some nut job named Magneto were trying to get off the ground.

“Fun?” K asked, as if it was a foreign word. Then he decided, “Work.”

Clint stifled down a groan. “Hey, I like my job, too. Saving the world on a daily basis is kind of awesome, right? We do what most people can’t, and we don’t even get paid that well for it. Which we totally should, too. The occupational hazards involved alone should earn us six figures at least. SHIELD must be good for it, they can afford Stark.”

“You value money as a priority,” K asked, face straight. 

Clint shrugged. “Money is a priority, when you’re in a stable relationship. I want to be able to provide for myself.”

“My son has been providing for himself for several decades now. He’s very accomplished in his chosen field.”

Clint gave the man an almost desperate smile. “Phil makes more than I do. Almost twice as much. But when I say I want to be able to provide for him, it’s not because I undervalue Phil. I don’t think he needs to be taken care of. He’s the most capable person I’ve ever met. And he takes better care of me that I think I deserve at times. But being able to, whether your partner needs or wants you to, is important. It’s a symbol of something, you know? It’s just important.”

The waitress appeared by K’s side with an impatient look on her face, likely due to the volume of patrons and a clear shortage of staff. They ordered quickly and Clint was more than surprised when K volunteered, “You’re trying, sport. I’ll give you that much.”

Clint was curious. “Am I not what you expected?” He wondered if that was the problem. “Did you think Phil was going to end up with some pencil pusher? Someone who listened to classical music, and worked eighteen hours a day, and drank wine from gold rimmed glasses? Someone older? What is it?”

“Not at all,” K said, and looked honest. “But for the record, Phillip has always dated civilians in the past. They’ve always been better matches for him.”

Was that personal opinion? “So you think Phil would be better off with someone who had a normal nine to five?” The idea alone angered Clint, and it took him a minute to figure out why. “Well, no offense, but that’s a pretty shitty idea. You’re in … you’re in the same business that Phil and I are in, basically. You know what can happen out there, and how easily people can …” He shook his head sharply. “I’d never let Phil go out there without me there to watch his back. I’m never going to let that happen. I learned my lesson the hard way.”

K’s hands folded on the table, a filled coffee cup next to them. “A civilian would have a severely lower percentage rate of being injured or killed.”

“Not in this city,” Clint snorted. Then he stopped, head tilting a little. “Is that it? Are you … are you afraid I’ll die?”

Gruffly, K confided, “It doesn’t matter what I think of you, it matters what Phillip thinks, and he’s in love with you. It would hurt him beyond repair to lose you.”

In that moment, all Clint could think of what when he’d lost Phil. He thought of that moment, in the transport, after Loki had been taken care of, when Natasha had been the one to tell him that Phil was gone and Clint was alone. “Yeah. I know. The feeling is mutual.”

“I don’t want to see him hurt like that.”

Clint leaned forward, and in a quiet voice, said, “When they told me Phil died … when I thought I was alone, I almost lost it. That’s how much I love him. I was pretty sure I didn’t want to live if he wasn’t going to be next to me every morning when I woke up, and every night before bed. He means that much to me, and I think I mean the same to him. So the way I felt … I don’t want him to feel that way. I don’t plan on dying, and I’ll keep that from happening to him again.”

“Most people don’t plan on dying,” K pointed out. “It still happens. And what happened to Phillip was only a fraction of what the both of you will see if you both involve yourself in this occupation. Trust me. I’ve been in it long enough.” Clint kind of felt like the man was leveling with him, or giving him a bit of wisdom. 

It was just unwanted wisdom as Clint questioned, “Did you know that Phil wasn’t really dead? Did Fury tell you he wasn’t? Because you and Fury are as close as girl scouts, and you knew who I was to Phil when Loki tried to kill him. So I’m asking you if you knew, and you let me think Phil was dead for months, all because Fury wanted to keep his surrogate son all to himself.”

K’s expression didn’t so much as flicker. “You already know the answer to that.”

Clint slumped back in his said. “Of course you did.”

Only then did K surprise him by saying, “I asked Fury to.”

“You what!”

Some of the patrons turned to look at them, but Clint was so furious he could barely stand to care.

“I asked him to,” K repeated calmly. “Though I imagine he would have anyway. I was concerned that someone might try to take advantage of Phillip while he was unable to protect himself.”

“I could have protected him!” Clint snapped.

“Like you did against Loki? Weren’t you conveniently under possession at the time?”

Clint’s hands clenched into fists, and he wondered how much Phil would hate him if he hurt his father. 

But he guessed he wasn’t really angry and the man, not for pointing out the truth. The truth of the matter was that he was still angry with himself, for failing Phil, and for not being there. It was an anger he held deep in himself, and wasn’t sure he’d ever completely work through. 

“I would never,” Clint hissed, “never let that happen again. I’ll smother the shit out of Phil with my overbearing, overprotective, totally unnecessarily shadowing for the rest of our lives if necessary, but no one will ever do that to him or to me again.”

“I asked Fury to keep Phillip’s survival a secret because as much as you love my son, I can’t trust you with him.”

“Who did you think was going to try and hurt him?” Clint pressed. “The guy who shoved a metal rod through him was off traipsing around, broadcasting his daddy issues for some attention from his brother.”

“Not on your end.” K lifted the mug and drank from it. “Mine. There are things, scooter, that even Phillip doesn’t know about my past. There are events of my past that could make him a target. His sister was a target, albeit for different reasons. I wanted to protect him, and that was the best way I knew how. Even if it meant hurting the person who cared for him.”

“Secrets are shitty,” Clint grumbled. 

K’s fingers set the mug down, looking almost a little fidgety, if it were at all possible. “You weren’t there for the funeral.”

“You buried a pile of ashes that probably belonged to someone’s dead grandmother.”

“At the time you believed them to be his ashes,” K said. 

Clint had to scoff, wishing the food was there so they’d have to stop talking long enough to eat. 

“At the time,” he clarified, “I was wasted out of my mind, probably in the beginning stages of alcohol poisoning, and if it weren’t for my best friend, namely one whom I don’t deserve, I’d have probably killed myself before the actual ashes even made it into the nice little memorial slot you guys picked out. The man I loved was dead at that point, and you expected me to have it together enough to put on a suit and go to his funeral? Are you kidding me?”

“Your absence was noted.”

“Were you there?” Clint asked.

“I was.” K nodded, “Fury thought it might be the convincing factor.”

“I’m sure it was nice,” Clint said, cynicism seeping into his words. “But it comes down to this, if Natasha had managed to drag me to that funeral, I wouldn’t have been sober, and if I’d gone drunk, that would have been disrespectful. I love Phil too much for that. I’m not going to disrespect him, in life or death.”

The pancakes came shortly after that, thank whatever god wanted to call himself in charge that day, and for at least a few minutes, the both of them were distracted by the ridiculously tasty food.

Clint had always kind of assumed the peace couldn’t last, and it wasn’t long before K suggested, “You don’t seem very focused on your work.”

“Excuse me?” Clint choked on a piece of pancake. 

“Phillip has always been a motivated worker. Focused and a leader. He’s excelled at every job he’s had. His performance at work is of the highest level.”

“And you looked at my record,” Clint knew. “You looked through my personal file.”

“Probation for five years, slick. No promotions, no added responsibilities, and several notes concerning attitude, behavior and work ethic. That’s everything that Phillip doesn’t stand for, and I’m just a little surprised he doesn’t mind it.”

Cheekily, Cline snipped, “What can I said, I have a problem with authority. I’ll follow my orders to the T, don’t worry about that, but if I don’t like them I won’t keep quite about it.”

“You could be holding Phillip back, intentionally or not.”

Unlikely. “The only place to go after the spot that Phil has in SHIELD, is up there with Fury, and contrary to you thinking that Phil is power hungry for advancement, he’s really happy where he is. He’s told me that, and I believe him. I’m not holding him back, and Fury does a lot of shady things, but he wouldn’t hold Phil back just because of me.” Clint smeared more syrup on his pancakes, most of which were quickly consumed. “Plus, that probationary stint? Completely on purpose.”

K leveled him with a look of disbelief.

“No, really,” Clint insisted. “When SHIELD picked me up, when they wanted me to help them out with my … special set of skills, it was Phil that they sent. He’s the one who convinced me. It was his word I took on faith alone, and it was only him that I felt comfortable with. They put me on probation with him as my handler for six months, to see how I worked out. Suffice to say, we made a good damn team. So then they released me from probation, and I got a partner. It wasn’t Phil and that new partner was an asshole.”

“You were deliberate in your actions,” K inferred.

“In getting myself busted back down to probationary status,” Clint agreed. “Because they put me back with Phil, thinking he was the only one who could keep me in line. I let them continue to think that, and I think we came to an agreement. I stayed with Phil, even if it meant that I had to be a probationary agent, and I did my best work in return. It worked out well for everyone.”

K wondered, “You didn’t want any type of advancement.”

“I don’t care about that,” Clint waved off. “I care about getting to work with Phil, and getting to go home safe with him at the end of the day. That’s it. I do what I do, and I do it well, and it doesn’t matter what professional level I’m at when I do my job. I’m not going to let anyone split us up. Not unless it was something that Phil wanted. I don’t care if that means I’m stuck down at the bottom rung of the ladder for the rest of my life.”

There were strawberries overflowing K’s plate, and for some reason, it made him seem a little more human. Or maybe it was the fact that they were talking for the first time. Not snarking or snipping at each other, just talking. Understanding. 

“You’re a smartass. I don’t like it.”

Clint beamed. “Can’t fix that, and there must be something to it. Phil doesn’t seem to mind it. Or maybe he’s just really good at putting up with it. It’s not even a little bit charming?”

K did not look amused, but he did say, “I know someone you’d get along with very well.”

After the pancakes were finished, a round of eggs and hash browns were ordered, and more coffee, and in a feat of impossibility, Clint found himself laughing as K told him about his partner’s first assignment. For Clint, who’d only gone up against aliens who looked exactly like himself, it was more than intriguing to hear about the kinds that weren’t humanoid. 

“Looks like MIB is just as responsible for keeping Earth safe as SHIELD is. And hey, look at us. Saving the world kind of bonds guys, doesn’t it? Stark and Rogers are proof of that.”

There was melon skewered on the end of K’s fork when the man asked him, “Answer me this, sport.”

“Would it kill you to use my name?”

K looked at him like he was trying to figure something out, like something heavy was ridding on the next moment. And then he asked, “Before long, you’ll be put in an impossible place. One day, you may need to make a choice.”

“Like what?” Clint took a bite of eggs. He’d poured heaps of ketchup on them and missed the way Phil would judge him for the action. 

“Phillip or the greater good.”

Clint chewed thoughtfully. “Like Spock’s the needs of the many?”

K’s face was blank.

“I swear if you tell me you’ve never seen Star Trek.”

K insisted, “You’ll face an adversary who will discover the nature of your relationship with my son. He’ll try to use Phillip against you, and you’ll have a choice to make.”

It took no thought from Clint to tell K, “I’ll choose Phil every time. Even if it means sacrificing everyone else. Even if it means I loose my job and my friends and even my relationship with Phil. To keep him safe, I’ll choose him every time. That’s fact, and damn the consequences.”

“I can see why they kept you on probation.”

Clint laughed harder than he had in days, and it felt good.

“But,” K admitted, “you’re good for Phillip, and everyone needs someone who’s good for them.”

That was as damn close to validation from the man as Clint thought he was ever going to get. It kind of felt like winning the lottery. 

They were on their third round of coffee of the morning, and two more than Clint knew Phil liked him to drink so early, when Clint said, “Phil knew we were going to be here. If he isn’t here by now, he’s going to be late. So I’ve got an idea. I think I know where we should go after this.”

“Oh?” K’s eyebrows were high.

“You’re going to like it,” Clint said confidently. “Let me pay the bill and we’ll get out of here.”

It was official, Clint was an absolutely fucking genius. He’d take applause any time.

“Now this here,” K told him, huddled in close and voice elevated to be heard through the earmuffs that they both wore, “this is your standard 9. I got Phillip one of these for this twelfth birthday.”

Clint loaded the clip into his own gun’s chamber and smiled at the thought of a short, shaggy haired Phil getting a gun for his birthday. History in the making. 

They fact was, they both shot different types of weapons for a living. Clint lived and died by his bow, as did others, and K spoke of different types of weapons that were exclusive to MIB. But both were excited to hone their accuracy skills and show off in a burst of adrenaline attached to testosterone. Going to the shooting range was really Clint’s best idea ever. 

It was so awesome in fact that Clint sort of lost track of the time. By the time he was beginning to feel hungry again, Phil was in the pedestrian corner of the shooting range watching him with a fond smile. The best Phil smile ever. 

“When did you get here?” Clint asked, making his way over to the man, voice carrying. “I thought you were going to be at the office for a while.”

“It’s well into the afternoon,” Phil said. “But as it turns out, I tend to get my work done twice as fast when you aren’t there to distract me.”

“Imagine that.” Clint gave the cuff of Phil’s jacket a tug. “And here I though you appreciated my presence.”

Phil peered around Clint, his eyes tracking his father’s movements. “You took my father to a shooting range.” An eyebrow, a critical one at that, rose.

“I know!” Clint held up a sharp finger. “At first glance this may appear to be a very poor idea. I’m usually full of poor ideas, but this is, in fact, not a poor one. It’s probably one of the best ideas I’ve ever had.”

Phil wondered, “And he hasn’t shot you yet?”

Clint forced a laugh. “Very funny. We both know your dad has better self control than that. And there are much worse things he could do to me than shoot me.”

“Agreed,” Phil said, a little gruff. “But that still doesn’t explain how I found you both here, and in one piece, respectively.”

With a frown, Clint noted, “It’s always a little creepy when you use that tracking device SHIELD put in me. Always.”

“How else would I keep track of you most of the time?” 

“Call?” Clint laughed. “Like a normal person.”

Phil gave Clint a sour face, and Clint was in agreement, Phil was anything but normal. Clint didn’t think he’d be half as attracted if the man were. 

“We went to breakfast,” Clint explained, “and it actually went really well. We talked. Usually I’m shit with words, but we understood each other. I’m kind of thinking all we should have done from the beginning was talk. Could have made things a whole lot smoother. I guess what it all comes down to is that we had to find that one thing we both liked the best, which is you, and come to an agreement.”

“I’m not really sure if I should be comforted by the idea of you and my father getting along like old friends now.”

Clint snorted loudly. “I wouldn’t go that far. I’m still the guy trying to take his kid away from him, but we both want you to be happy, and we both really like shooting things. That’s how we got to this moment.”

Phil’s fingers brushed past Clint on his way to his father and he murmured quietly, “Good boy.”

When Phil stood next to his father, shoulders lined up in a military proficient manner, arms at the same angle, faces nearly identical, Clint had no trouble seeing the likeness between the two of them. They moved the same way, reacted the same way, and both shared a bodily awareness that Clint was slightly jealous of.

Clint was happy enough, from then on out, to just sit back and watch father and son. Whatever had called Phil into the office that morning had gotten him all worked up and tense. Clint could tell in the pull of his shoulders and the way he stood with his feet abnormally spaced apart. But Phil with his father was soothing, maybe comforting, and as the time passed slowly, so did the tense body language. 

On K’s last night with them they didn’t go out to dinner. Instead Clint, who was a decent cook, and Phil who was probably just as mediocre, cooked a simple dinner of pasta and meatballs. Cooking was far from one of Clint’s favorite activates, but Phil made it bearable, and maybe even a little fun.

During dinner, K regaled them with tales from his job, which turned into a sort of competition in Clint’s eyes as he fought back with the worst of the Avenger’s missions. 

“My first day,” Clint told K, a cold beer in one hand and Phil’s warm thigh touching his under the table, the perfect combination, “I was written up for insubordination twice, set off the SHIELD hazmat alarm, decapitated almost a dozen training dummies, broke a fellow probationary agent’s wrist, and landed Phil with a mountain of paperwork. Top that.”

Things had gone much smoother afterwards, in the following weeks, once SHIELD and Fury learned that Clint was no a stationary agent. He was better out in the field, and not surrounded by other people who didn’t understand him, or in small training spaces that he didn’t need to use.

Phil said, “As far as first days go, you got off easy.” And then there was the retelling of K’s partner’s first day, a man Clint very much wanted to meet, including the delivering of an alien octopus baby, while on the trail of a cockroach. 

Clint had to give it to him, “Loki is a pain in our ass, as far as supervillains go, but nothing like that has ever happened. We deal with … less colorful situations.”

Well, there was that one time that Tony’s suit seemed to gain a mind of its own, become a tad possessive, and had kidnapped the man. 

That night, Clint laughed and he joked and he held Phil’s hand above the table, and felt good.

In the morning K insisted that they not drive him down to the train station. He said, “Taking a cab to the airport.”

“Going out of town?” Phil asked, a sounding a little anxious, which was odd to Clint.

“Work,” K said, and it was enough. 

“Look,” Clint said, rubbing the back of his head, trying to smooth down his sleep rumpled hair from the night before. “MIB is based out of New York. And so are the Avengers. It’s not like our organizations are besties, but I’m sure it wouldn’t be that hard for us to look each other up. If the Avengers can deal with the Fantastic Four trying to start a turf war with us, and all these new mutants popping up everywhere, then MIB shouldn’t act like strangers. Come visit again. It makes Phil happy.” 

“Might be around the neighborhood soon enough, bud.”

“The pet names though,” Clint remarked with a grimace, “still not cute.”

K reached down for his small, carrying bag. “Never my intention, kid.”

Clint rolled his eyes.

As K started off down the hall, he called back, “Make sure to send the wedding invitation six weeks in advance.”

Phil raised a hand softly at the retreating figure and Clint felt like he might burst. “Barring any end of the world apocalypses, we will!”

“You won him over,” Phil said, sounding almost astonished. 

Clint hugged him tight and kissed his ear, remarking, “Guess you have to marry me now.”

Phil agreed, “I guess so.”

“Come on!” Clint said, grabbing Phil by the arm suddenly, all but hauling him back into the apartment.

“Barton!” Phil barked out, tone very annoyed. 

Sharply, Clint slammed the door after them and said, “I’ve just spent two days with your dad in our house, and I’ve been afraid to so much as breathe on you, let alone anything else. I am severely sexually frustrated, and as my future husband it is your duty to make sure I don’t die of blue balls over here.”

“You’ve gone longer than two days before!” Phil called after him. “Much longer, if you’ll recall Borneo last year.”

Clint was already digging through the bedside drawer in their room by the time Phil’s words reached him. Borneo had been three months, but the circumstances were different, they’d both been undercover, and Phil’s father hadn’t been breathing down Clint’s neck.

“Where did you move the lube?”

Phil leaned against the bedroom door. “You’re really serious, aren’t you? We have dry cleaning that needs to be taken in, an Avengers briefing at noon, and you want to have sex right now?”

Clint cried victoriously as he found his favorite tube. “I am so very serious,” he said, sincere in his words. Then he tossed the tube on the bed, strode over to Phil, and kissed him hard. “Now, you have three seconds to get your clothes off, or I’m going to throw you over my shoulder and do it myself.”

“Don’t you dare, Barton. Your shoulder was dislocated a little over a week ago.”

Clint grinned wickedly, “My shoulder is fine. And time is up, Coulson.”

“Barton--”

So maybe his shoulder did still twinge at times, and even though the last of the pain would be gone with only a bit more rest, but that didn’t stop him from catching Phil and lugging him over to the bed. He tossed him down on it easy, and jumped on top with a mock war cry.

“You’re crazy, you know,” Phil said, a little breathless. He reached a hand up, fingers trailing across Clint’s neck before they slipped around and pulled him down for a firm kiss. 

“Yeah.” Clint grinned against him. “Maybe a little, but you are too. You’d have to be, to marry me.”

Phil sobered, and he asked softly, “You really want to get married? It means that much to you?”

“It means everything,” Clint urged. “I haven’t had a family in a very long time, and not really before you and Tasha. I certainly never had a place to come home to, or someone who was willing to wait up for me, or check in on me. So being able to say you’re mine, legally, is very important. Important enough to win your dad over, at least.”

“That’s pretty important.”

“You’re telling me.”

“Okay,” Phil resolved. “Then we’re getting married.”

Clint echoed happily, “We’re getting married.”

As Clint leaned in for another kiss, Phil brought up a sharp finger, and with it came a stern expression. “We’re getting married and having a small wedding. Agreed? Small, Barton. Essential personnel only.”

Clint gave a snort barely covered by a laugh. “Are you listening to yourself? Essential personnel? It’s a wedding, Phil. You don’t invite only essential personnel.”

Phil leveled himself up on one elbow. “And you sound like you want to invite all of upper Manhattan.” 

“Weren’t we going to have sex?” Clint questioned, and with a groan he slid off Phil, and back to sit crossed legged on the bed. “I’m pretty sure we were.” He sighed and relented, “We can have a small wedding if you want. Just me, you, the Avengers, and your dad. That work for you?”

“And Fury,” Phil added.

“Not that asshole,” Clint snapped. “Not the asshole who kept the knowledge that you were alive from me for months, and let me waste away into nothing, and try to kill myself with alcohol. Not him, and not that bitch, Hill.”

Phil sat up and leaned over to kiss the corner of Clint’s mouth. “If we want Fury to give us the day off to get married, and pull some strings to keep the day supervillain free, we’re going to need to invite him. Deal with it.”

“Okay.” Clint’s eyes narrowed. “Then I get to extend the guest list, too.”

“Who do you want to invite?” Phil kicked off his shoes, and was working on his shirt soon after that.

“Storm,” Clint said promptly. “Johnny Storm and I are kind of kindred spirits now.”

“After a single night of pie?”

“Pie bonds a pair of guys.”

Phil leaned up on his knees, hand on Clint’s shoulders. “If you give me Fury, I’ll give you Storm. Fair?”

Clint’s arms wrapped around him, warm and heavy. “Fair. Thanks.”

There was a soft, loving crinkle to Phil’s eyes as he fell against Clint. “One last thing.”

“I’m afraid to ask.”

Phil leveled with him, almost sounding like Agent Coulson, and not Phil, “We do not tell Stark until the day before the wedding.”

Clint frowned. “You don’t want to tell Tony.”

“Or any of the other Avengers,” Phil amended. “Aside from Natasha, of course.”

When Clint thought about it, the idea had merit. And Phil was totally a genius when it came to thinking ahead. If Tony knew they planed to get married, the man would probably hound them endlessly until the actual day. And that was if they were lucky. No, Phil was right, they had to keep a lid on their plans, from Tony and from anyone who might tell him, even on accident. That included Tony’s science boyfriend, Bruce, and his live-in boyfriend, Steve. 

“No one knows but us,” Clint was quick to agree. “At least for the time being.”

The next time Phil kissed him, it was full on the mouth, and with serious intent behind it.

“It’ll be small,” Clint promised. “We’ll exchange vows, have some food, and make it as painless as possible.”

Phil rolled them over and Clint stopped thinking.


	3. Chapter Three

As promised, the only person they told was Natasha. Well, Phil told Fury, too. Fury sent them each fruit baskets. Which, the fruit was nice, Clint really liked pineapple, but it was still kind of creepy. 

It was almost immediately after Phil agreed to marry him, and his father gave his blessing, that Clint went to Natasha and asked, “You still have it, right?”

She was fresh back from abroad, tired, and filling out paperwork when Clint stopped by the small office she occupied. 

“It?”

“Yes,” Clint closed the door behind him and rested back against it. “You know it. The … the ring.”

She shifted through a few papers. “And which ring would that be? Could you be more specific?”

Clint growled. “Natasha.”

The truth was, he’d been meaning to ask Phil to marry him for years. But the idea had recently picked up steam right before Phil’s altercation with Loki, and the faked death that followed. Right before that, Clint had bought a ring, and he’d been making plans to ask the only person he’d ever really loved, to marry him. The only person, aside from Natasha, whom he trusted implicitly. 

Then Phil had died, or at least seemed to, and nothing had mattered. Especially a small, silver ring with a stupid inscription promising forever. 

Thank fuck for Natasha. She’s had sense enough to rescue the ring from his apartment, and hold onto it. Maybe she’d never intended to give it back to him, as the days turned to weeks, and Clint continued to spiral into a deep depression. But she’d kept it safe, and she hadn’t let anything happen to it. So even as Phil had turned out to be alive, and they’d started to rebuild their lives together, she’d still kept the ring until he was ready to have it back. 

“Oh,” she said deliberately, “you mean Phil’s ring.”

“Yes,” he snapped. “Phil’s ring. I need it.”

“You did say things ended well between his father and you.”

“The man doesn’t want to have a secret hit placed on me anymore.” Clint shrugged. “Not sure that means he likes me, but he’s going to be there for the wedding. He asked for an invitation, which is about as good as it gets.”

She set her pen down and reached for a low, cabinet drawer. “Calm down, Little Bird.”

Incredulously, Clint demanded, “You keep the ring here?

“For safe keeping.” She set a small black box on her desk. “Most of the other agents are convinced I’ve booby trapped the room. I like to let them think that. It keeps everything in here safe.”

With a slightly shaking hand, Clint reached for the box and opened it almost immediately. There was a slim, shiny ring nestled in the velvet box. It looked just as beautiful now, as the day that Natasha helped him pick it out. 

“So you’re really going to do it?” She inquired, chin resting in the palm of her hand. 

He snapped the box closed. “In a couple of months, yeah. I’m not sure why everyone seems to surprised. When people love each other, they’re supposed to get married.” The box felt so heavy in his hand.

“And statistically speaking, half of all marriages end in divorce, a majority of those within the first few years.”

“I’ve been with Phil for six.” Clint felt better as he told her, “And if he hasn’t wanted to get rid of me by now, he probably won’t sometime in the next three or four years. Shit, Tasha, we’re more likely to go down in flames with the rest of the planet, than get a divorce.”

She grinned at him. “Whatever you say, Clint. I think you’re out of your mind, but I’m happy for you. You and Phil are good for each other, in a strange way I haven’t figure out yet, but still, good for each other.”

Clint slipped the ring into his pocket and reminded, “We’re not telling anyone, right? Steve and Bruce and Thor might not give two shits about this, but Tony is always looking to be a pain in someone’s ass. I have no doubt he’ll pick myself and Phil if he finds out we plan to get married.”

Natasha pointed out, “It has been slow these past couple weeks. I think he’s getting restless, without Loki to blast.”

“There was … what was that guy’s name … the Abomination? You missed him by a couple of days, Natasha. That was exciting. And there’s a rumor about Red Skull. Everyone loves to kick a little Nazi ass.”

She pointed out, “He wasn’t actually a Nazi. That was just a cover.”

Clint made a face at her. “He was a Nazi, Tasha. Don’t get it wrong.”

“Anyway,” she gestured back to the work in front of her. “Get out of here. I’ll keep your secret, you just worry about doing your job.”

He gave her a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am!”

“You look smug,” Phil said when he saw Clint half an hour later. 

Clint felt a flush of panic, as if Phil somehow knew about the ring in his pocket. “What? Smug? Me?”

“Mm-hm.”

Clint rolled his eyes. “I’m just on my way down to conference with Hill. I think she wants to bitch at me about encouraging children to put themselves in danger like we do nearly every day.”

Phil’s eyebrows rose up towards his hairline. “Excuse me. When were you doing this?”

“That night I had pie with Johnny Storm,” Clint explained. “There were a couple kids there, twins. They were fans, or at least one of them was. I guess they’ve got this little group of friends who think they’re superheroes. If you ask me, we need more kids out there trying to do the right thing, though I do agree with the not encouraging kids to put themselves in danger.”

Encouragingly, Phil said, “I think we should limit the amount of time you spend eating pie with Johnny Storm. He seems to be a bad influence on you.”

Clint gave him a parting wave and counted his short run-in with Phil as a win. He felt stupid hiding the ring from Phil, especially after the man had already seen it once, but it felt different now that they were engaged. Special. He was kind of hoping that Clint had forgotten what the ring looked like. 

The next few weeks, oddly enough, passed in a sort of blasé way. During the day Phil and Clint went to work. Usually a small, run of the mill, out for his fifteen minutes of fame villain popped up along the way, and the Avengers were dispatched. There was paperwork, weapons training, debriefings, saving kittens from trees, clashes with the Fantastic Four, the occasional mutant, and of course, the typical lawsuit. 

Loki seemed suspiciously absent, not that it stopped his usual partner Doom from pressing along with his vendetta against Reed, which Clint thought unfairly extended along to any and all superheroes. 

And by night, in a kind of therapeutic way that seemed to bond them closer together, he and Phil ordered in dinner, usually Chinese or Mexican, and their new favorite was Indian, and worked on plans for the wedding. The invitations went out, they selected a small venue, and manage to wrangle up a Justice of the Peace. They hired a caterer for the reception they wanted to host afterwards, and with Fury’s blessing and promise of a free weekend, they booked a bed and breakfast in Vermont. 

Everything was going well.

That was probably why two important things happened all at once, neither good. 

The first was that Thor disappeared. It was nothing special for the Norse God to frequently return home. Sometimes he could be gone for days, other times longer. But it was incredibly unusual for him to disappear without so much as a word to anyone. He was simply there one day, and gone the next, and not even Tony had any clue, and Thor had been living with him since the Avengers had first been activated. 

Fury didn’t seem that worried, but Clint could see it on Phil’s face that he was. Phil looked after them all. Phil was their liaison, and would have been willing to stand between any of them and certain annihilation. Phil took looking after them as a personal job, and probably regarded all the Avengers as family. Phil didn’t like that Thor was unaccounted for, especially since they hadn’t seen or heard from Loki in nearly two months. 

Phil never said a word, but Clint wasn’t completely blind to the man’s tendencies. Clint looked in on him in his office from time to time, snooping along as he listened to Phil trying each of his contacts on the phone or over the computer. He’d even gone so far as to contact Darcy and Jane. No one had heard anything.

The other thing, of course, because Clint never deserved anything nice and special to himself, was that Steve came across his and Phil’s requisition for personal leave. Steve Rogers was probably the least deliberately hurtful guy on the face of the planet. Rogers never strove to hurt anyone, and until an attack was made on him, or someone important to him, Clint never saw him get angry, or lash out. He never tried to cause trouble, and quickly distanced himself from the kind of trouble that Tony liked to start for fun. So it was probably a complete accident that he saw the sheet while swinging by to talk to Fury about a new deployment method Bruce and Tony had been brainstorming the previous night. 

There were no secrets at SHIELD. Not really. In hindsight, it was probably a fucking miracle that Fury had kept Phil’s survival a secret for so long. Mostly because the second that Steve had seen the requisition, he’d mentioned it to Tony, probably confused because Phil never took time off for himself. And Tony? Tony was probably the nosiest person on the planet. Maybe the galaxy, and a few alternate dimensions. So Tony went snooping, and let it be said, SHIELD is severely lacking in their firewall protection.

“So,” Tony said, sliding up next to Clint in the Mess one day, “what’s going on?”

His first clue should have been Tony’s presence. Tony never visited SHIELD headquarters if he could help it. And if he did come by, he was in and out as fast as possible. That seemed to be Tony’s motto for most things, anyway. 

“What’re you doing here?” Clint as gruffly, reaching for a bottle of water. 

Christ, Tony looked smug. “Just visiting my favorite Avenger.”

“You sleep with your favorite Avenger,” Clint snorted. “That’s why he’s your favorite. And if I have to sleep with you to earn that title, I’ll pass.”

“I heard you were hanging out with Johnny Storm,” Tony said, “and since I slept with him--”

“I never slept with Johnny,” Clint said sharply, annoyed. “I never would. Therefore, I have no tie to you. Now what do you want, Stark? I know you didn’t come all the way down here just to annoy the shit out of me. No matter how good you are at it.”

“No.” Tony rocked back onto the heels of his feet. “Cap is down here. We’re going to the Met after.”

“And you decided to sample the wonderful cuisine that SHIELD has to offer?”

Tony made a horrified face. 

“What’re you here for, Stark?” Clint asked  
bluntly. 

Leisurely, Tony followed Clint to a nearby table and said, “I’m just wondering, I’ve known Phil how long? A couple years now?”

“At least. He’s known you longer. Phil’s been keeping an eye on you since before you were Iron Man. SHIELD has, too.”

That seemed to keep with Tony for a moment. 

“Believe it or not,” Clint said, feeling smug himself, “as amazing as Iron Man is, you’re still more valuable as consultant. SHIELD just lets to fly around because it’s easier to keep an eye on you.”

“You wound me, Barton.”

“Yeah, and you give my boyfriend an ulcer.”

Tony threw one leg over the bench to straddle it. “Speaking of boyfriends, mine saw that yours offered Fury an official requisition for exactly seventy-two hours of leave. For two. Did I mention the two copies that Steve saw? And since your boyfriend never goes anywhere without you, I’m assuming you’re his plus one. But I want to know why the two of you are bailing out on the Avengers for a couple of days.”

“Not only is that none of your business,” Clint snapped, “but it’s also none of your business.”

“Got a little secret, covert mission going on?”

“Not really.” Clint wondered what would be the best way to get rid of Tony. Maybe if he started reciting the SHIELD Agent handbook, Tony would run for the hills. “Just business.”

Tony was absolutely beaming. “And did you know, Mr. Barton, that you have to file for a marriage license a specific period of time ahead of the actual wedding date? At least if you want it to be official.”

Clint narrowed his eyes. “You’re a weasel, Stark. Did you know that?”

“I prefer the term shark. I’m a Harvey Specter of sorts.”

“Should that name mean anything to me?”

Tony clapped Clint hard on the back. “I guess congratulations are in order, aren’t they bird boy? Finally making an honest man out of our favorite agent?”

Clint rounded on Tony so fast he surprised himself. In fact, the tone in which he took was even more startling, as he grated in a low voice, “Phil wants to keep this quiet, Stark, and that means you are going to keep your mouth shut about this. I count myself as really fucking lucky that he even agreed to marry me, so if he wants to keep this on the down low, then that’s what we’re going to do, and that does not involve you running your mouth about this to anyone and everyone.”

“Hey, hey, I get it.” Tony’s hands went up diplomatically. “I’m just a little surprised. You don’t seem like the marriage type. Neither does Coulson, actually.”

“Yeah, well,” Clint said, “contrary to what you think, it is possible for two people to maintain a long term, monogamous relationship and still remain interested in each other. Marriage is the next step. We kept this quiet because we don’t want people using it against us, either at SHEILD, or any of the guys who try to kill us on a weekly basis. Also, because we know that you’re a blabber mouth.”

“I resent that!”

Finally, Clint allowed, “So yes, we’re getting married. Next month, actually, on the third. We’re only inviting his dad, the Avengers, and a couple other people, and after we’re going to Vermont for the weekend. That’s all. That’s the whole of it, and if you hadn’t gone snooping around, and looking at things you had no right to see, you’d know this in another week or so. Now tell me.”

“You got a ring?” Tony asked suddenly. “Because I’ll have you know, I’m excellent at shopping. And tell you what?”

“No, I don’t need help shopping.”

“So you have a ring,” Tony assumed gleefully. 

Clint clarified, “I want to know what it’s going to take to shut you up. To keep you quiet. Name your price. Even a man with as much money as you do, has a price.”

Tony seemed to think on that. For a long while, actually. Clint was able to work his way through his lunch with ease, sitting in silence, before Tony said, “I’m willing to keep quiet about this. All of it, from the wedding plans themselves, to the final destination. I won’t say a word to anyone until you want everyone to know.”

“And in return?”

Clint knew he was going to regret whatever Tony’s condition was.

“Well?”

Tony patted him on the arm and stood, straightening his suit. “Let’s just say,” he told Clint, “you’re going to have one hell of a bachelor party.”

Clint swallowed hard.

And he did not, under any circumstances, think it was a good idea to tell Phil that Tony was up to something. Clint had seen the Hangover. Phil had too. So that was one risk Clint didn’t want to see either of them taking, especially with Tony Stark. Stark was the one guy crazy enough to steal a tiger in real life. Or maybe just buy one for him.

Still, Tony was a man of his word, and by the time he and Phil elected to tell the rest of the Avengers about their plans, Phil was none the wiser that Tony already knew.

The Avengers themselves took it all pretty well. Steve offered his congratulations with a bit of confusion, questioning, “I don’t mean to be rude, but is that legal?”

“In several states now,” Phil offered, shinning a little, like he always did when Captain America was around. Clint didn’t think he was ever going to get over his man crush. But Clint was the guy who actually go to marry Phil, so that was okay. “And I’d wager many more before long. There are several more important things for the people of Earth to worry after now, instead of sexual orientation.”

Steve looked amazed after that, and when he glanced sideways at Tony, trying to seem unobtrusive, Clint knew exactly what he was thinking. 

Tony was a fucking actor, that was for sure. He threw his arm around Phil’s shoulders, shaking him a little, and exclaimed, “Well lookie here, my little Agent is all grown up and getting married. Makes me think I raised you right.”

Phil shrugged Tony off and smoothed a wrinkle out. “You couldn’t raise an unfertilized egg for a school project.”

“Hey!” Tony protested. “I’m a very good daddy. Look at Dummy!”

Across the room, Bruce twiddled nervously. Personally, Clint thought the man really needed to be introduced to Prozac. “I didn’t miss the invitation, did I?” He looked around a little forlorn. “A lot comes across my desk in a day. I might have missed it.”

Bruce had come back to the States for a reason that Clint still couldn’t pin down. Maybe because of his budding bromance with Tony. Maybe because Phil just talked that good of a game. 

“We’re keeping it small,” Clint cut in. “Only a dozen invitations went out to begin with, and we didn’t send any to you guys because god knows you can’t keep a secret, and we don’t want anything to get out of hand. All you need to do is show up, look nice, and not start any fights with any of the other guests.” God, that meant he and Phil needed Bruce to keep his temper in check, and for Tony not to get into a pissing contest with Richards, and for no unexpected Mutant crashers to be present at any time. 

Rumor had it Fury’s plus one was Charles Xavier, and not Maria Hill like everyone had expected. Now the way Clint heard it, Xavier had some big gay romance going on with Magneto (another problem in and of it self), and that didn’t bode well if Xavier was trying to pony up with Fury for whatever reason. 

Also, it begged the question: Was everyone gay? Or bicurious? 

“Has there been any word from Thor?” Phil asked. 

Humor falling away, Tony shook his head. “Nothing yet. But we’re keeping an eye out. I’ve got JARVIS on it, tapping everything we have.”

Clint hated how Phil looked so worried still.

“At least,” Bruce said, “we’re sure no one with a grudge against us, at least that we know of, has him.”

They’d crashed Doom’s latest hideout soon after Thor’s disapperance, and everyone else they could think of. Doom had been oddly evasive and distant, but Thor hadn’t been there. As it stood, the guy had just vanished into thin air. It was unsettling, more than anything else.

“Maybe he doesn’t want to be found,” Steve said, and honestly, it was something they’d never really proposed as a real option. 

“Really?” Tony asked, not believing it for a second. 

Steve shrugged. “Might be he has a good reason. A very good reason.”

“In any case,” Clint said, jamming a finger at Tony, “you will be there on the day of my wedding. You’ll dress nice, you won’t bring trouble with you through the door, and as hard as it may be for you to do, you will behave.”

Tony pouted. “I always dress nice.”

“That went very well,” Phil said once the Avengers had dispersed. “There was a low percentage of it going that well.”

“The guys can surprise, once in a while.” Clint figured that to be the truth, if nothing else was.

Phil told him, “I’ll be staying late tonight. There are a couple of things I need to go over with Natasha before the weekend. It may take a while. You go on ahead home without me. I’ll get someone to drop me off later tonight.”

Clint caught Phil’s wrist, like he often did, and liked to do. He had butterflies in his stomach. They were so close to the wedding it seemed like a dream. They only had a few more days until Friday.

“Need something?” Phil teased softly. His fingers brushed up against Clint’s wrist. 

“Actually, yeah,” Clint said a little shyly. There was no better time. “It’s about … um … the bachelor party?”

Surprised, Phil asked, “You want a bachelor party?”

“And you don’t,” Clint assumed. 

Phil wasn’t really a bachelor party kind of guy. He wasn’t a marriage kind of guy, but he was getting married all the same because Clint wanted it. It was probably best not to push his luck with getting Phil to agree to a bachelor party.

“No good has ever come from a bachelor party,” Phil told him. “And we don’t want to start out marriage out on a bad note, correct?”

The guilt card. Clint hated the guilt card. “No,” he said with a wince. “So maybe just … drinks with Natasha at our favorite bar.”

Phil reminded, “Our guests are going to start coming into town very soon. It would be a shame if they traveled all this way for nothing.”

What he hated more than the guilt card? The bad boy warning. The underlying threat that if he fucked up, Phil would have his ass, and not in the way he preferred. 

“Just drinks,” he repeated. “With Natasha. At our favorite bar. You want to come?”

Clint dropped Phil’s wrist as the man said, “You have your idea of fun, which would be drinking with your best friend, and I have mine.”

Clint couldn’t fight his grin. “Which would be hanging out at work, doing paperwork, right?”

“Go have your drinks.” Phil kissed him chastely. “Tomorrow night, have your drinks with Natasha, and just make sure you’re there Friday morning.”

Suspiciously, Clint asked, “No check-ins? No babysitting?” It was almost too good to be true. 

“You’re an adult man,” Phil said. “Do you need me there, watching over you?”

Clint shook his head. “No way. Thanks, Phil.”

“Have fun,” Phil urged. “You wanted to be shackled to your own ball and chain, so live it up.”

Clint wanted to, proudly.

Phil said over his shoulder, “I’ll tell Natasha to expect to drag you home by nine on Friday.”

Clint felt so excited over the wedding that he’d almost forgotten the bargain he’d made with Tony.

At least until Tony came blazing into SHIELD at the end of the day on Thursday and manhandled him away from the firing range. He protested loudly until he realized they were dangerously close to the hallway that Phil prowled up and down.

“Shut up,” Tony said merrily. “As far as your boyfriend knows, you and Natasha are on your way to … Vinnie’s, was it? You actually go to a bar called Vinnie’s? It’s in Queens, isn’t it?”

Clint was still trying to wrangle his arm free. 

“We’re going now,” Tony insisted, “before someone decides to try and level New York … again. So come along, bird boy, there’s booze to drink, and strippers to see.”

Clint stumbled a little from how hard Tony was pulling him off balance. “But Phil--”

“Phil thinks you’re having drinks with Natasha,” he reiterated. “Now Natasha, coincidentally, is at Manhattan’s best spa. The best money can buy, which, as you know, I have a lot of.” Tony gave a self satisfied chuckle that had Clint rolling his eyes. 

“You’re an ass, Tony. I’m sure you knew that. A self satisfied ass.”

“The best kind.” They stopped in front of a bank of elevators to take them to the first floor. 

Clint sighed, “This is a bad idea.”

Tony waved a hand at him. “Christ, Barton, you’re wound up so tight if we shoved some coal up your ass we’d get a diamond in a few weeks.”

“I’m going to make sure I don’t deflect the next hit I see coming your way.”

“Teamwork,” Tony grinned. “Now don’t get your panties all twisted up. I’m very thorough. I told you, where your boyfriend is concerned, you’re out with your BFF, and he’s going to be so busy nerding out, that he probably won’t even remember your name.”

“You got Steve for him, didn’t you?” Clint guessed. “Where exactly does Steve fit into this?”

“Other than the fact that my boyfriend is totally your boyfriend’s free pass?”

Clint nodded begrudgingly. 

Tony explained, “In about fifteen minutes, and that’s eleven or twelve minutes after we’ll be gone, the good Captain is going to sweep your boyfriend off his feet, take him out to an all-American night baseball game, eat some apple pie or whatever all good patriotic boys eat, and talk about work policy and battle strategy or whatever gets them wet.”

“Crude.”

“But accurate.”

The elevator doors opened and Tony all but shoved him in.

“If I fuck up tonight,” Clint told him seriously, “I don’t think Phil will marry me tomorrow. And I did not go through all of the shit that I did, for a couple bottles of tequila and a stripper named Candy.”

“So … vodka then?”

“No strippers,” Clint snapped. “And if you roofie my drink at all, or there is a tiger involved at any point, or I end up missing a tooth, or--”

Tony crossed his arms. “Not all bachelor parties end up that way. Just a good ones.”

Clint’s eyes narrowed. “No strippers.”

With a shrug, Tony agreed, “No strippers.”

There were strippers. There was a club, music with the base turned up so high Clint felt his teeth chatter in his mouth, and of course, strippers. Lots and lots of strippers. While Phil was enjoying a baseball game with his idol, Clint was being subjected to strippers.

Not that Clint wanted there to be any miscommunication when Tony thought he wasn’t appreciating the strippers. Clint very much appreciated strippers. Didn’t most men? Strippers were awesome, but Clint didn’t really think that Phil would have the same appreciation for them, especially the night before their wedding. 

“What Agent Phil doesn’t know,” Tony shouted above the music, sounding a little tipsy already, “won’t kill him.” There was a stripper leaning in close to him as Tony held up a bill.

“And what about Steve?” Clint called back, gripping his own beer tightly. “Can’t imagine he’s going to love this idea, genius.”

Tony’s drink crashed to the floor accidentally as it shattered, and the man was laughing at the scene for far too long before he raised his hands and said, “Never touch them. That’s the trick. No touching, no cheating.”

The most perfect pair of breasts that Clint had ever seen in his life were in front of him, mere inches away. He downed the last of his beer. “Not sure everyone would agree.”

So the strip club was a really bad idea. There was no doubt about that, but Clint though it would have been at least a little more bearable if some of the other Avengers had been there. He might have at least laughed himself sick to imagine Thor up on the bar, consuming vast amounts of earth liquor, or Bruce anxiously flittering from one part of the club to the next. At least Natasha. 

“What’s with the sour-puss face,” Tony demanded, slinking back over to Clint’s side. “You want to go to a gay bar? We can go to a gay bar.” 

It made no difference to Clint either way, beautiful bodies were beautiful bodies, but the club was a little stifling. It was hot, uncomfortable, and he really just wanted to spend the night with Phil. Was that so much to ask? To be a boring, old married man?

“I’m going to get some fresh air,” he told Tony, catching his arm and pulling him away from a particularly voluptuous woman named Starlight. Tony called something out after him, but he was weaving between people too fast after that to hear properly. 

It was frigid outside, and it felt great. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. There was a missed call from Phil and it made Clint’s gut clench. 

“Hey,” he greeted when Phil picked up. Immediately in the background he could hear the roar of the crowd. “Having fun?”

“Yes,” Phil said quickly, sounding genuine. “Boston is in town tonight.” A bat cracked.

Clint gave a happy sigh. “I’m glad you’re having a good time. Do me a favor? Loosen your tie just a little bit. I’m sure you already look a little out of place.”

Phil chuckled. “I changed before the game.” The man paused. Clint found himself holding his breath until Phil mentioned, “You left without saying goodbye.”

“Yeah.” Clint rubbed a hand through the short hair at the back of his head. “Sorry about that.” They always parted with words from work, whenever they went home separately. “Natasha and I wanted to get a good head start on the night. Don’t worry, I’m pacing myself. The last thing I need to be arrested for is a drunk and disorderly.”

Phil mused, “Is there a band playing tonight?”

With a frown, Clint asked, “No. Why?”

“Vinnie’s doesn’t really seem the type of place to play music that loud.”

Icy fear gripped Clint and he looked over towards the front door of the club, and wondered how he could have forgotten that each and every time someone entered the building, music poured out loud enough for Phil to hear over the phone. “I’m just … it’s … that’s the guys next door. You know kids these days.”

Phil hummed. “I thought there was a laundry mat next door.”

“You have a great time with the Captain, okay!” Clint spoke quickly, hoping to distract Phil from his obvious lie. “You guys should go get some apple pie after, or whatever you do for shits and giggles! Have fun!” He hung up as quickly as he could and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

This was a disaster. And he just wanted to go home, maybe go to bed, or catch an episode of Jerseylicious.

“I’m going to go!” Clint had to shout into Tony’s ear to be heard. 

“What?” Tony demanded, passing his drink off to a pretty young boy. Huh. So there were male strippers at the club after all. Trust Tony to find them. “Go?”

Clint nodded and clapped Tony hard on the shoulder. “Great bachelor party. Really. Thanks, Tony. Barring some asshole trying to ruin my day tomorrow, I’ll see you at the wedding.”

He wove through the crowd as quickly as he could. He wasn’t really sure what he had expected from Tony to begin with. Tony hooking up with Steve, for however serious they were, and it looked to be, had quieted the man down some. As far as Clint knew, because Phil told him everything, and god knew Fury told Phil everything, Tony was keeping his nose clean. He spent more of the day sober than drunk. And he showed up to almost all of his obligations. When it came to Tony Stark, that was like Jesus’ second coming. 

But even Tony Stark was still Tony Stark.

So the strippers had been a given.

“Clint! Hey, Barton!”

Tony wrenched hard on his elbow about a block from the club. The man was flushed from the transition into the cold night’s weather, but looked determined. 

“Tony,” Clint started, but he was cut off.

“I get it,” Tony said, letting him go. “Strip joints are not for you. I should have taken you to the circus instead.”

Clint smiled a little. “We could have gone on a double date to the ball game with Phil and Cap.”

Tony made a face. “Give me a marathon of RomComs any day of the week instead.”

Clint couldn’t help teasing, “Cap told me you guys watched The Notebook, and I have it on good authority you cried.”

Huffy, Tony said, “If you want to take a trip down to my workshop, chaperoned, of course, I can show you proof that I do have a heart. Pepper made it, matter of fact.”

Turning away, Clint said, “I’m going home now, Tony.”

Tony caught him again, this time softer. “Wait,” he said. “I have a better idea.”

“Your last idea was strippers,” Clint pointed out. 

Tony waved a hand. “This is much better. And there won’t be any strippers, scout’s honor. Just come with me.”

Against his better judgment, Clint went.

They went to Stark Tower, actually. Clint half expected to have Tony chirping in his ear again, nagging Clint to talk Phil into the two of the moving into Stark Tower with the rest of the Avengers. Instead, when they reached the top floor of the tower, a place Clint had never been before, there was a base heavy beat playing, stacks of domestic beer by the door, and his friends waiting for him. 

“Just us tonight,” Tony said, arm around Clint’s shoulders. “And some shitty, cheap beer. Your favorite.”

“Clint!” Bruce, usually careful on his feet, cautious to a fault, smashed into one of Tony’s bar stools with a beer bottle held over his head like a trophy. “You’re getting married!”

Natasha, who was supposed to be a spa, reached a hand down to help him, stumbled herself, and ended up in a twisted heap on the ground, laughing loudly.

“Is Bruce drunk?” Clint asked, awed. 

“I told them to start without us,” Tony said. He gave a clap of his hands and suddenly all Clint could see was the expansive New York skyline, all lit up like diamonds in the night, shinning perfectly through floor to ceiling windows. “Guess they did.”

Clint’s eyes swept the rest of the room, taking in of all people, Johnny Storm at the far corner, draped over a pure white couch with his arm around a pretty girl. “She looks awfully young,” Clint remarked, noting the drink in her hand as she laughed at something Johnny said. 

“She can phase through walls,” Tony said matter of fact. “That is awesome. She stays. Plus, I think that’s club soda.” Indeed there was an empty bottle of it near her. “And she has a chaperone.”

That was when Clint saw Cyclops. Or Scott Summers. That was his name. Clint had only met him a few times, on the occasion that the X-Men had clashed with the Avengers, but the guy was pretty intimidating. 

“Do I want to know why there are members of the X-Men at my … second bachelor party attempt?”

Tony shrugged, snagging a bottle of Vodka as he passed the bar Bruce and Natasha were still trying to pull themselves up. “Who cares.” He announced to the crowd, “Bar’s open, kids!”

“Party!” Darcy shouted, hand reaching up to the sky. Jane was next to her. Clint wondered where they’d come from, and if they were here, it was odd not to see--

“My friend!”

Thor crushed him into a painful hug. Clint was swept off his feet as Thor shouted loudly of their brotherhood, loyalty in battle, and what great warriors they were. Clearly Thor had begun drinking long before Clint and Tony had arrived. And Jesus, it took a lot to get the god drunk. Clint wondered if there was much alcohol left for the rest of them. 

“Thor!” Clint struggled to his feet, catching red from the corner of his eyes, and eventually Pepper’s face as she mulled past on the arm of whom Clint remembered vaguely as Tony’s driver. The one with the peppy name. Happy. “Where’ve you been?”

Thor boasted loudly, “I have wonderful news, my feathered teammate!” 

“I’m not actually feathered,” Clint pointed out. He accepted a beer from The Thing, not sure how he’d missed the large, orange man the first time around. There was also the issue of how he’d actually gotten up to the top floor, considering the weight restriction of the elevator. Maybe Thor had flown him up. Also, who else had Storm brought with him? Which other X-Men were lurking around? 

Thor had an actual beer stein. If that wasn’t fucking hilarious, Clint didn’t know what was. The god downed it before announcing, “I’m to be an Uncle! Again!” 

Clint froze and choked on his beer. “Excuse me?”

Thor, who smashed their foes into tiny pieces, and stood for justice and was ridiculously good at saving the world, looked like a gleeful child. 

“An Uncle!” Thor repeated, wrapping Clint up in another hug so suddenly that he dropped his beer. It shattered on the ground, though no one seemed to notice or care.

“Congratulations!” Rhodey called from across the room.

It was almost distraction enough. 

However, as a couple more people streaked by drunkenly, Clint stumbled out, “What did you say? An Uncle? Could you clarify that. You’re too drunk, and I’m not drunk enough.”

Thor grinned stupidly. 

Clint deadpanned. “Loki?”

Thor nodded quickly, pulling a bottle from a passerby. “I have been many days away, caring for him as best I can.” Thor added sourly, “As best he would allow.” Thor only looked petulant now. “My brother finds himself difficult during these times.”

“Difficult?” Clint choked out. “You mean homicidal? And wait! What do you mean these times make him difficult? Feel sorry for the poor girl he knocked up.” Clint put his face in his hands. “God, let it have been consensual.”

“No, no, no, no,” Bruce said, suddenly plastered to Clint back. His breath was rancid and hot against Clint neck as he said drowsily, “It’s so awesome, Clint. Loki didn’t get anyone pregnant. Loki is pregnant.”

Again, Thor beamed. 

Clint stared. “Your brother is pregnant?”

“He will be scarce for some time more,” Thor replied. “He will trouble us no more as he cares for his growing condition.” Though the god was clearly drunk, Thor’s face darkened, and he leaned in close to Clint to say, “I will see my brother through this. I will keep him safe. He will not be harmed.”

Clint’s hands went up immediately. “I’m just here for a good time, big guy.”

“You will assist me?” Thor inquired, head cocked. 

Clint managed to shove Bruce off him and sent him towards Darcy and Jane who were currently attempting to draw a white haired woman into their personal dance party. 

“Buddy,” Clint assured, taking leave to pour himself a long shot of whiskey, “You’re sitting here telling me that your brother is pregnant. I’m not drunk enough for this, not even a little. So yeah, I’ll assist you. Whatever you need.”

Thor vowed, “Our father will not have this one.”

Clint knocked the drink back. “There’s a story there,” he said, sure of himself. But he felt the beginning of a buzz, and relaxed into one of Tony’s bar chairs. 

“Come!” Thor nearly tossed Clint to the ground in his effort to pull the man towards the dancing girls. “We have much to celebrate!”

Half an hour later Clint was wasted, signing karaoke with Tony, and had apparently, though he would hold no knowledge of it the next day, invited the whole of the Fantastic Four, the X-Men, and apparently Loki himself, to the wedding the following day. 

Clint had meant to be home by midnight, right around the time he’d assumed Phil would make it in, but then Tony was bitching about seeing the bride before the wedding, and Clint felt obliged to defend Phil’s honor by way of beer pong. 

And there was a significant pause around one in the morning when Johnny found his first inevitable confrontation with someone Clint had never met before, someone named Wade (also someone that no one could actually remember inviting, Tony included) and his flying fireballs set off the sprinkler system. 

There was a wet tee-shirt contest following that. Thor was declared the winner by overwhelming majority. 

That night, and into the morning, Clint laughed. He drank and enjoyed his friends, and forgot himself. He wasn’t Hawkeye. He didn’t put himself in danger every day to save a majority of people who thought the Avengers were nothing but a giant nuisance. There was no paperwork, no conduct code, no orders to follow, and nothing but good company and better drink. 

He woke up thirsty, head pounding, stripped to his boxers, and in a man pile consisting of Tony, Bruce, Johnny and Thor. He was more clothed than some of them. 

Clint wondered what had woken him until he squinted up at the crouched figure of his boyfriend.

“Fuck.”

Phil smiled. “Rough night?”

“You …” Clint wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, then heaved himself up onto his knees. “What’re you doing here?”

Phil’s hand cupped the back of Clint’s neck and he kissed him on the forehead. “We’re getting married in three hours.”

“Fuck,” Clint said again.

Phil stood, surveyed the damage, and said, “I didn’t quite imagine that Stark would bring you back to the tower. It seemed a strip club was more his style.”

Clint was laughing himself sore, while people began to wake around him with hangover groans of unhappiness, until Clint realized what had been said. “Wait,” he mumbled, rubbing his head soothingly, “ What did you say?”

“You didn’t really think that I believed you and Natasha were going for a drink after work, did you?”

“Guess not,” Clint groaned. “Shit. I don’t know what I was thinking. I wasn’t.”

“I’m surprised you can remember your own name right now. It looks like you and Thor and the Hulk tore this place apart.”

Clint looked for Bruce then, happy to find him not green. He couldn’t be sure about anything that had happened the night before. He couldn’t remember much. 

Clint leaned his forehead on Phil’s shoulder. “I lied to you. Do you hate me?”

Again, Phil’s hand found the back of his neck, and he was kissed once more. “Of course not. Also, a girl scout lies better than you do.”

“Girl scouts don’t lie,” Jane said softly, nursing a glass of water at the bar which had been cracked in half. Near her, Natasha was curled up with Mjolnir as her pillow. “I was one. I know these things. I am … very knowingly.”

“And still drunk, clearly,” Clint offered. 

When Phil reached a hand out to him, Clint accepted, and let the man pull him to his feet. 

“Are we still getting married?” Clint questioned. 

“Do you think we should?”

“Yes?” Clint tried. 

Phil laughed gently and the next time he kissed Clint, it was at the corner of his mouth.

“Not before the wedding!” Tony protested, finger up in the air as he struggled to his feet. “And where’s my boyfriend to help me to my feet?”

Phil supplied, “Steve is making sure that he plays the role of diligent best man. He’s already at the wedding hall, meeting with the Justice of the Peace, and organizing the last of the details.”

“You knew, didn’t you?” Clint asked, more than a little suspicious. 

“Knew what?” Though Clint was sure Phil knew what he was talking about.

Clint’s hand came out to present the wreckage around them. “This.”

“I knew,” Phil corrected, helping Tony up as well, “that you had struck a deal with Stark over the matter of your bachelor party. I knew that Natasha was your alibi, and that vast amounts of alcohol would come into play at some point in the night. I rightly assumed that you would be in no position to get yourself up and be ready on time today.”

“How?” Clint eyed him warily. “Magic? Because next to Thor’s pregnant brother, I’ve had just about all I can take of magic.”

“Ah,” Phil observed, “you heard about that. Interesting news.”

“Interesting?” Clint balked. “A guy gets himself pregnant and it’s interesting?”

“Fury expects a quiet period from both Loki and Doom. At least for the next several months, if Thor’s to be believed.”

“Doom?” Suddenly, Clint held up a hand. He didn’t want to know. And he certainly didn’t want to think about it. Doom and Loki had always been a little too close for comfort. This was only affirming things that were too horrible to think about. 

“Steve,” Tony said, finally taking his own weight without help. It took Clint a moment to realize what the man was talking about. Then Tony was going on, “I bet Steve told him. Figures.”

Clint still felt a little off kilter. He felt uneasy on his feet and more than a little sick. “Why does the bachelor party come the night before the wedding? That’s stupid. No one ever feels good the day after.”

Phil’s hand was warm as it rested against Clint’s back, and the agent urged, “Come along. My father is expecting us to be on time. He’ll be upset if we’re delayed. He cut a current assignment short to be here for this today.”

Clint groaned. “Can you ask him to shoot me in the head? Will that make the drumming stop?”

With a gentle push they started towards the elevator. “He might take you up on that.”

“Ugh.”

“Stark,” Phil called out, letting Clint lean against him. “Make yourself presentable before you come to my wedding. Barton may be too hung over to say it right now, but today is important to him. If you mess this up for him, I’ll have you signing release forms for hours the next hundred times the Avengers are deployed. Do not test me, or you may as well request a room at SHIELD.”

Tony gave him a mock salute and stole a bottle of Southern Comfort from Bruce’s fingers on the floor. “Will do, Mister Agent.”

Phil rolled his eyes and eased Clint into the elevator.

The deal was, Clint found out as he and Phil slipped into their suits in the back ready room of the wedding hall, that Fury actually gave a huge damn about the wedding. Or about Phil. Whatever. Apparently he’d brokered a deal of some sorts with the Fantastic Four, something that happened once in a blue moon, to keep the city safe for the next five hours. Usually Fury and Richards spent hours in a day beating their chests at each other over territorial disputes, because the Baxter building was apparently too close to Stark Tower. But for today, and only because Fury loved Phil like the man deserved to be loved by everyone, they were on Doom watch. The Fantastic Four were expected to clean up anyone who wanted to take advantage of the distracted Avengers, or anyone who wanted to choose the wrong day to take up a life of crime. 

And then there was something called Wolverine. It was big, and smelly, and guarding the front door against the press who’d gotten wind of the whole thing and were naturally making a big fucking deal out of something that wasn’t their business to begin with. He was the same guy Clint had seen months earlier when a young mutant had taken down Yankee stadium. He was just as scary looking as Clint remembered. 

Clint groaned as he worked a cufflink into place. He still felt a little weak on his feet, but he’d had a strong cup of coffee half an hour earlier, and a cranberry muffin from a heavenly little café down the street. He’d shared with Phil, and stolen kisses, and never felt more content. 

“Nervous?” Phil asked with a smile.

“Nah,” Clint lied. “This is what I wanted. It’d be stupid to be nervous, right?”

Phil straightened his tie. “I didn’t want this, not at first, and I’m nervous. I think it’s alright for you to be as well.”

Clint leaned over and kissed him hard, one hand framing the side of his face. He confessed, “When I thought you were dead--”

“Clint--”

“No,” Clint insisted, “I want you to know, when I thought you were dead, all I could think about was how much of a pussy I had been. How I’d been so scared to do this with you, because I was worried you wouldn’t want to, and then the chance was gone. That’s my life in a nutshell, Phil. Wasted opportunities. Well, no more. That’s done. It’s in the past. I’m never going to be too worried, or too scared to do something again. Never again will I be a coward, and especially not with you.”

Phil’s shoulder pressed into Clint’s as he said almost angrily, “You have never been a coward.”

“All the same,” Clint said, cracking a smile, “thanks for taking a chance on me. All those years ago, and today.”

Phil shook his head and Clint pulled on his tie, dragging him into a last kiss.

The wedding hall was intended for fifty. There were capacity restrictions and fire codes. And they’d expected half that number to begin with, because Phil had wanted a small ceremony, and Clint wanted whatever Phil did. 

There were probably twice that many, maybe more, warm bodies in attendance. As Phil gave him a look of annoyance, barely masked by a courteous look to the guests, Clint couldn’t help thinking it was probably his fault. For all he knew, he’d gone on a bender last night and invited the whole of New York. Or maybe just anyone who was a little extraordinary. 

The Avengers were there, all of them, and Johnny Storm. Fury was present, Xavier as his plus one, and Maria Hill was seated towards the back with a gentleman Clint had never seen before as her guest. It was a little unnerving, actually, to think that she might have a life outside of work. Not with all the time she spent sucking up to Fury. 

More than a couple X-Men were accounted for, along with Phil’s father himself. There was also a dark skinned man with a genuinely happy smile sitting next to him, someone that Phil whispered to Clint was his father’s partner. And way less of a stick in the mud that K, clearly.

What brought Clint to a standstill, even as Phil was moving into position, was Loki. 

Loki, who gained some kind of perverse pleasure out of yoking them around, and torturing them, and threatening everything that Clint held dear. Loki, the Avenger’s sworn enemy, and all around asshole with daddy issues and a rainy disposition. Sitting front row. Hands laced over his lap, legs crossed, almost boxed in by Thor and another SHIELD agent. Fucking Loki.

And fuck Thor for just sitting there, like it was okay to bring Loki to the wedding of the man that he’d tried to kill, and damn near succeeded in doing. 

Clint wasn’t enough of a saint, not like Phil was, to put up with it.

“Don’t,” Phil hissed at him, sensing the trouble right away. 

“But--”

Phil shook his head just a bit. “Clint.”

Loki caught his eye, a challenge on his face, and Clint wanted to wring his neck, Thor be damned. 

Somehow he had just enough composure and respect for Phil to get to the place he was supposed to stand.

After that, everything melted away. There was only Phil standing across from him, holding his hands, looking ridiculous in his handsomeness. For Clint, Phil had always been attractive, embodying all the of the qualities that Clint found attractive. And neither was he hard on the eyes. Maybe Clint had a bit of hero worship for the man who’d pulled him out of a life filled with mediocrity and goals left unfulfilled. Phil had given him purpose and drive and another shot at family. That was Phil. The guy standing in front of him.

Clint choked out his vows, trying not to cry like a little girl, almost failing miserably. 

It was over before he knew it. He was kissing Phil, people were clapping and things were exploding outside. 

“Domestic?” Clint questioned. Because there was a room full of superheroes in front of them. And while they didn’t always end up fighting the smartest of villains, Clint also couldn’t say any of them were really stupid enough to take on so many superheros at once. Still, there was always the chance, however slight it might be, that some regular guy had gotten pissed enough at the mailman that he’d rigged a pipe bomb and set it off at the local Starkbucks that wouldn’t give him his extra chai, double whip, nonfat, extra sprinkles and puppies and whatever the fuck people put in those drinks, for under ten bucks. People never made any sense. Clint could see it happening.

“No,” Phil dismissed easily, already taking a step towards the sound. “Too much discharge.”

Clint’s shoulders fell as he watched the wedding guests hurry towards the main doors. It was going to be an absolute shit fest if everyone tried to take a piece out of the idiot who’d picked today to start a fight. Speaking of, Clint demanded, “Weren’t the Fantastic Four supposed to be covering this?”

Ben Grimm, looking spectacularly still hung over, crashed through the double windows of the wedding hall, sending glass shattering everywhere. Clint’s arm came up protectively to cover his face even as Phil was shielding him. Clint hated it when Phil did that.

“There’s your answer,” Phil said. “I think it’s safe to assume they’re going to require a little backup.”

Clint could see Fury already issuing orders to Captain America, Steve Rogers gone in an instance and replaced with the icon. They’d need Phil over there in a second, Clint knew, and thank god the wedding was actually already over.

The next explosion was bigger, shaking the ground and rattling the frame of the building. 

Clint really hoped it wasn’t another mutant. Gods were a piece of cake next to mutants, even with Xavier here and he was likely the most powerful of them all, next to Magneto. 

“Barton!” Tony called out, and he was already suited up. The hall was nearly deserted. 

“I gotta go,” Clint said, bending in the slightest to kiss Phil. It wasn’t professional, and they tried not to show any preference to each other while on the job, but Clint thought he ought to have a little leeway, considering it was his wedding, after all. 

Fury appeared at Phil’s elbow and passed an earpiece off to him, saying, “You’ll coordinate from the ground. Richards needs to pull his people back, and Xavier is going to have his people take a defensive position in order to give them the time they need to get it done. The Avengers are on the offensive.”

“See,” Clint said amused, “we can all play nice together.”

“Who is it?” Phil asked, head ducking instinctively as debris fell from the cracked ceiling. He fitted his earpiece into place and Clint accepted his bow from a nearby Hill. Clint was never so thankful for SHIELD’s paranoia. 

“Doom,” Fury said, curtly. 

Clint’s head snapped towards the last place he’d seen Loki, and found him easily enough. Thor had abandoned his brother for the fight, acting on orders from the Cap, but there were more than a few SHIELD agents in civilian clothes surrounding the trickster. 

Loki gave a Cheshire grin. “Wasn’t me this time.”

“It wasn’t,” Fury agreed. As he spoke, Phil’s face pulled tight, mind working as he listened to chatter from Stark and the Cap on the earpiece. “Thor’s assured us that at this point in time of his pregnancy, Loki is as near mortal as he’ll ever be. No magic. He doesn’t have the ability to be behind this.”

“But Doom is his buddy,” Clint snapped, slinging his quiver over his head and fitting his arm guards into place as quickly as he could. “Fury, Loki doesn’t need magic when he has his mouth. He could have orchestrated this whole mess just to piss us off, and not a lick of magic would be necessary. Loki does this for fun. I say we shouldn’t discredit him just because Doom is throwing explosions outside.”

It was a fair point Clint could see Fury thinking over.

“Alas,” Loki cut in, “as much as I desire to take the credit for this--”

Through the shattered windows of the hall Iron Man streaked by, tumbling through the air until he hit a series of parked cars.

“Go,” Fury demanded, and Clint was away. 

As it turned out, not to anyone’s surprise, Loki was a lying shit. Though maybe not in the way that Clint had anticipated. 

Doom was pulling himself from the rubble the Hulk had smashed him into when he demanded, “You will surrender Loki to me, and stop your incessant attempts to separate us.”

“Say what?” Clint asked, ducking to the side as a doombot nearly took his head off with its trajectory. 

“Is that what this is really about?” Tony demanded, faceplate popping up as the battle came to a pause. “You angling for a bootycall?” 

“We’re not exactly keeping him prisoner,” Clint offered, though he wasn’t really sure if that was true or not. At the moment he supposed it was. Loki did seem to be in SHEILD custody, or at least his brother’s, and Thor was an Avenger. But Loki never stayed anywhere he didn’t want to be, and Clint didn’t really think that being out of magic for the time being, was going to stop Loki from leaving if he wanted to. 

Doom shouted, “You would think to separate us? To infringe upon my parental rights?”

Tony laughed hard, almost doubling over and said, “I guess we know who the baby daddy is.”

Doom roared, launching a wave of lightening at them that took Clint off his feet, and came dangerously close to Phil if the way he shouted over the comm meant anything. Clint was partial to Phil being kept safe from raving lunatics, and baby daddy or not, he was going to take Doom down the next time he got frisky with Thor’s preferred element.

“You will not have him!” Thor vowed, sending his own lightening back at Doom. “Neither of them.”

And he had to ask, looking from teammate to teammate, “So are we protecting Loki now?”

It was Loki himself who gave the answer, emerging from the wedding hall at last, looking pleased as pudding and without his previous escorts. He caught their attention, saying, “Have you had your fill, Victor? Have you sated your temper tantrum?”

Doom accused, “You left.”

“And you are overbearing,” Loki replied tiredly. “Do you hold me accountable for your display?” 

“You fucked up my wedding over a lover’s quarrel?” Clint demanded. He notched a bow. “That’s it, I’m shooting you both in the face.”

Thor turned a murderous gaze on Clint. 

“I said face!” Clint defended. “Not stomach.”

“Hulk want smash now!”

Clint nodded in agreement.

“Hold up!” The Cap took a step forward, putting himself fully between Doom and Loki. He looked towards Doom and asked, “Is this the sole reason you started this fight over?”

Doom crackled with energy. “I will see my family returned to me.”

The Cap sighed. He asked Loki, “Are you done provoking him now?”

“I’ve had my fun,” Loki said. 

Thor seemed to catch on, and offered, “Then let us have peace and let everyone return to their proper place.”

Clint frowned. From what he understood, at least from what little he remembered from the night previous, Thor was awfully protective over his brother, who wanted nothing of the gesture, of course. It seemed a little odd that Thor was now willing to relinquish Loki to Doom. At least considering the trouble they got up to together. 

Unless … there was an option worse than Doom for Loki. That was food for thought. 

“I …” Doom began carefully. He finally gave Cap a nod. “I am done.”

Clint could hear Phil in his ear, relaying to him that Fury was not approving the release of Loki to Doom, or the allowance of Doom to leave after the fight he’d instigated.

So Clint was a little surprised that Cap said, “Today is an important day for several of my friends. If you leave now, you’ll be allowed to do so in peace, with Loki.”

“And tomorrow?” Doom asked, pleased by his tone. 

“Tomorrow,” Cap smiled, “we’re coming for you. And there will be no mercy.”

“I agree,” Doom said. 

Clint let his bow go slack. He’d been really looking forward to putting an arrow in Loki’s face. 

As the Hulk gave a grunt of disagreement, and Tony’s jets powered down, Thor lowered his hammer defensively and gave Loki a kind look. Loki returned it with a sneer done only half as well as Clint knew was possible. 

Things were going too damn well. 

So it was of no surprise that Johnny Storm came out of no where with a fierce cry and barreled into Doom with an intent to maim. 

“Oh well,” Clint said with a shrug, looking over to Phil who was falling back for a better vantage point. Maybe Thor wouldn’t notice if a couple of arrows strayed close to Loki’s head. 

Apparently Doom took Johnny’s attack as a personal betrayal of Cap’s word, and it was half an hour later before anyone managed to calm down enough to stop blowing things up. 

As far as Clint was concerned, he was never eating pie with that little shit again. 

But the real hero of the day? Phil’s father. He and his partner opened up a can of whoopass so huge on Doom’s rear that the supervillain was still trying to figure out what had happened. Clint had never seen someone actually kick that much ass while standing so still and if there was an award for best passive-aggressive snarking, the man would have won it a million times over. 

And Kevin Brown (Phil’s dad wasn’t the only person who could find enough history on someone, if he dug deep enough) would murder him in his sleep if he so much as laid a finger on Phil that he didn’t want there. Clint knew that for sure in that moment. He’d pretty much known it before, but it was a nice reminder not to be an asshole to the guy he’d just married. Not even unintentionally.

In fact Clint was starting to feel that scary kind of inspired respect that he kind of figured you were supposed to feel for your father-in-law.

By half past noon Doom was gone, along with Loki, and most of the party guests. The reception hall was in pieces, and Clint now assumed, as he told Phil, “Time for paperwork?”

Hill was passing by and interjected, “Don’t you two have a train to catch?”

Clint eased out, “We have a train to catch?”

“Was planning on it,” Phil said, signing a clipboard a nearby SHIELD agent was holding out to him. 

“But …” Clint said, “… paperwork?” There was always paperwork. Always. In the six years that Clint had been with SHIELD, there had never not been paperwork. 

“Would you like me to go into the office?” Phil asked. He glanced up from his signature at Clint as he floundered. “There is always paperwork, after all. Mounds of it. Hours worth. Might even need to come in early tomorrow to finish it all.”

“I don’t like that idea.” Clint shook his head slowly. 

Phil posed, “Or, we could leave now and--”

It would be undignified to say that he threw Phil over his shoulder. Or even that he tossed him up there. Clint would rather have said he gently whisked his brand new husband off his feet. 

Bruce called half an hour later, sounding shaky and tired, to remind them they’d never actually signed their marriage certificate. 

“So we’re not married after all,” Clint said, crossing his arms petulantly. “All that shit and we’re not eve married.”

Phil sat across from him, watching the scenery fly by at the train’s speed. “The certificate is a technicality.”

Clint frowned. “It’s the only thing that makes the marriage legal. We didn’t need any of the other stuff. Just the signatures. We should have done it before.”

“We’ll do it after,” Phil said comfortingly. He caught Clint’s fingers and squeezed tightly. “And we are married.”

Phil’s hand turned, and Clint could see the ring he’d put on the man’s finger hours earlier. He saw the shiny piece of metal that he had been hoarding for years. 

“Okay,” Clint relented. 

Phil smiled and went back to watching the trees pass.

They spent two and a half days in Vermont. Clint had never had a proper vacation, not really, and it had taken the better part of those two days and a half days to work out exactly how it was done. It helped, naturally, that Phil wasn’t the least bit interested in sight seeing. They never strayed far from their room, or the nearby streets that offered delicious restaurants. Almost three days in bed, sated and satisfied, was worth the struggle to get to the alter. 

By Monday Vermont was a thing of the past. They were home in New York, their marriage license was signed, and things were back to the way they usually were. They were in the office by seven-thirty, parted by eight, and Clint could hardly remember what the word vacation meant. 

Natasha met him for lunch, as she usually did when neither of them were away. She gave him a sly grin and said, “Could you be any more obnoxious?”

Clint gave her a wink. “I think we all know the answer to that is yes.”

She hit him over the back of the head affectionately. “You’re happy,” she observed.

“I’m always happy.”

They entered the mess and Clint swept the room for Phil. He hadn’t expected the man to be present. Their small vacation had come at a price, and Clint knew Phil was going to be hurrying to catch up on everything he had missed. Still, he found looking for Phil was even more instinctual now than it had ever been. 

“This is something different.” Natasha looked at him critically. 

“Maybe I’m pregnant,” Clint suggested. “Phil and I did spend a lot of time in bed, and that does seem to be going around these days. Am I glowing?”

Natasha pinched him hard, and there was sure to be a bruise. “You know what I mean.”

They were on their way to their favorite table before Clint was able to admit soberly, “I know what you mean.”

She touched his arm, sort of in the way Phil liked to do, and Clint wondered if the both of them knew how much the small gesture calmed him. Then she said, “You should have gotten married years ago.”

“Phil’s stubborn,” Clint protested. “And you may have noticed, he doesn’t like change very much. We switched from Downy to Tide one month because the local store was having a sale and he was grouchy for four weeks. I’m feeling a little thankful that it only took this long.”

“Hm.” She settled in beside him. “I think maybe you should be more grateful that he finally got tired of your whining and gave in.”

“I do not whine.”

She pinched him again. 

“You like that too much,” Clint said. “Stop it, or I’m telling Phil.”

The next pinch was expected, as was the, “Very mature, especially for a married man.”

Clint looked down at his lunch, his gaze drifting to his ring. He hadn’t had to take it off thus far. There would come a day when he’d have to, probably in the near future. As soon as the Avengers were called into action, it would have to come off. And he knew Fury was already bitching at Phil about his. But for now, it stayed on, and it was just as nice to look at now, as the day it had gone on.

“You should pinch me again,” he told Natasha. “And maybe every day from here on out.”

“Why?” she asked suspiciously. 

Clint held up his hand. “Because not that long ago Phil was dead, and I was trying to be the same. And before that, there was this wedge between me and Phil, because he was scared of hurting me, and I was worried I’d fuck up and ruin his career. Want to go even further back? How about my asshole brother? As much as he screwed me over, if that had gone even a little differently, I wouldn’t have this. So I want you to pinch me every day for the rest of my life, just so I know for sure that I’m awake, and this is real.”

Her voice dropped, and she said knowingly, “You’re still messed up from when Fury hid Phil from you.”

“Wouldn’t you be?” He felt a surge of anger just thinking about it. “There went my world, down the drain, and you think I’m still not screwed up? I still have nightmares. I still think about it every day. I lost Phil for those months. I lost him and he was dead, and getting him back doesn’t erase the fact that I lost him in the first place.”

“You have to--”

“What?” he demanded. “Put it in the past? Try to forget about it?”

“Talk about it,” she corrected. “To someone. To anyone.”

“No.” And he almost got to his feet. He almost stormed away from her, like he was six, because he was scared of the direction of the conversation. “See a shrink? Fuck that.”

Natasha knocked their shoulders together. “SHIELD has several, and technically you’re supposed to see one every six months for your bi-yearly review. You didn’t see one last time. It might have helped.”

Clint hated psychologists. He hated them with a passion. They didn’t help, and they couldn’t help, and that made them a waste of time. But he was curious enough to ask her, “How do you know about this?”

“I know everything,” she joked. “And the question you should be asking, though I bet you already know the answer to, is who got you out of the psych evaluation.”

Clint’s eyebrows pulled high. “Phil?”

“Of course Phil,” Natasha told him. “Who else is in that good with Fury that he could get something this important overlooked? You shouldn’t have even been allowed back on the field without a psychologist’s approval. This is big, Clint, and no one said two words to you about it because Phil made it all go away.”

“Why would he?” Clint asked. Phil was a stickler for rules. Phil didn’t break them, especially the big ones. 

Natasha leaned in close to shield their conversation further form anyone else. She whispered, “Because he loves you. And because he knows, even though you won’t talk to him about it, how much the incident with Loki tore you up. He knows it almost killed you, and he won’t make you relive that with anyone else. He’s protecting you, so you might give that a little thought before you continue to keep everything inside. If you don’t get it out some how, that much trauma is going to come back to haunt you, and Phil, too.”

Clint thought about the day of his wedding, and how he’d told Phil how thankful he was to have him after Loki. He’d tried to open up, and tried to say what he needed to, but only a fraction if it had come out. And not enough, he now realized. 

“I’m not going to talk to a psychologist.”

Natasha kissed his cheek and said, “Then talk to your husband. He will never judge you, and he might be able to help you.”

Clint promised her he’d think about it. 

He spent the rest of the day thinking about it, and by the time Phil came by to collect him to go home, he was still thinking about it.

“What’s wrong?” Phil asked, pulling his jacket on next to Clint. “You look worried about something.”

Clint waited until they got home, and had changed, and were camping out in the living room with the best hamburgers for an hour in any direction, to say, “Natasha told me that you got me passed over for my last psych evaluation.”

Phil shifted towards him. “I did,” he didn’t deny.

“No one gets passed over for anything important like that,” Clint said. “You don’t let things like that happen. But you did, for me, and I need to know if it was preferential treatment. The kind that we swore we would never give each other.”

Phil set his hamburger down, and he was wiping his hands on a napkin by the time he said, “I did what I did in your best interest.”

“Bullshit.”

Phil argued, “Not bullshit. Not at all.” The napkin was discarded frivolously. And as Clint settled back on the sofa, Phil straddled him, hands on Clint’s shoulders. “I did what I did because I love you. Because I knew that no psychologist would clear you to be in the field with me, and because I knew that we don’t function half as well apart, as we do together. And maybe you aren’t completely recovered, or ready to be in the field at all, but the fact remains, the Avengers needs you out there. This planet needs you out there, and I can give you time. I can buy you time.”

“You think I’m really messed up?” Clint rested his hands on Phil’s thighs. “Like maybe I’m just going to freak out one of these days right in the middle of battle and put everyone at risk?”

Phil shrugged. “I can’t say either way, though I have my suspicions you’re suffering from post traumatic stress disorder. What I can say is that you’re as important to the team as any of the other Avengers, and more than that, you’re important to me. So I will do what I have to, to protect you from whomever I need to. And that is all you need to know.”

“I love you,” Clint struggled to say, voice cracking with emotion. “And I want you to know that I can’t really talk about it right now. But when I can, you’ll be the one I tell.”

Phil’s hands slid from Clint’s shoulders, up to cup his face. “I love you too. I will wait as long as you need.” He kissed him gently. “But you have horrible timing.”

“You’ve been telling me that for years.”

Phil laughed against Clint’s mouth. “I told you that when you asked me to marry you.”

Clint’s arms wrapped snuggly against Phil’s waist and he rolled them carefully down to the soft carpet. With his hand cradling the back of Phil’s head, he promised, “I’m totally going to work on that.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Phil pulled him down and Clint went willingly.


End file.
